Someone You've Yet To Meet
by MaySoFarAway
Summary: Crossover challenge. Agent Lewis does a favor for an old friend, and goes up to the frozen North to try and talk sense into a man who's made a painful mistake. Rating for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

((That weird moment when you're really into the idea of a ship, yet you feel as if you're cheating on your main one. Oh well, Steve and Darcy have their own slice of my head-canon all to themselves. Here's my humble Crossover offering, whole new 'verse and new take on minor character. As usual, while I enjoy Movie-verse X-Men, as far as I am concerned it ended after X2 ;) So it's a tossed salad in my head of comic-canon, movie-faces, and every Marvel character having their proper accents. This first chapter is light and introductory, but I plan on making this one pretty angsty as it goes along. Enjoy.))

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Someone You've Yet To Meet

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Her dossier had literally read 'middle of nowhere', and at the time, on the private jet courtesy of SHIELD and one Anthony 'Iron-Man' Stark, Darcy Lewis had laughed. But after landing in Anchorage at 5am, and then taking a tiny rattling plane, followed by a rattling supply van to the town of Halfmast by noon, Darcy was too tired to even make the obvious jokes. Because yes, it was the middle of nowhere. In fact, Nowhere had probably forgotten that it's own mass included Halfmast, a blip with a lumber mill between two actual logging towns, which were a considerable distance apart as it was.

The town...village?...was set far back from the long, meandering highway, on the edge of a National Park, surrounded by thick forest, the lumber mill, and high mountains. It consisted of a few houses, post office, ranger station, a motel, bar, gas station and grocery store. There was even an honest-to-Thor general store, full of flannel shirts, rock candy and hunting equipment. Darcy pales, wondering how bad the wifi is.

She checks into her room at the small, yet clean and well-kept motel. It's an old place, but isn't run-down in the way that random motels are in the rest of the States. It just doesn't get much business, Darcy figures, a low whistle leaving her lips when she sees her room. Moose. Moose and bears and dark greens and browns everywhere. She starts to wonder if Sarah Palin will jump out of the closet with a rifle and a dead wolf, to complete the picture.

Dropping her ancient, old man suitcase, Darcy immediately draws out her laptop, connecting to the okay, not amazing internet, and sending off a few messages. First, to her boss, the ever-intimidating Director Fury.

"Arrived safely, plan on finding my target this evening. Phone reception shitty, I'll be in touch here. Thank Tony for the steak on the flight."

And then to Jane.

"Oh my god this place is both super gorgeous and super boring. Miss you. Make sure you're eating between the science and the sex."

And finally, to her old friend from high-school, who happens to live at a fancy, removed mansion alongside some very interesting people.

"Got here safe, I'll start hunting down Logan tonight. This place is a whole new kind of boondocks, Marie, you owe me big time."

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The incident was three weeks ago. While no one died, all the usual government channels are getting the same old earful about 'dangerous mutants' and 'unsupervised vigilantes'. They've tracked Wolverine to the middle of nowhere, but it was his biggest defender who arm-wrestled Fury into sending someone of her choosing to go talk sense into him, to ask him to come back to the world. Not some suit, or a superhero he'd get into a pissing match with, or one of his friends from the institute who'd be awash in pity. When Rogue mentions that her best friend from high-school happened to work for SHIELD now, and gave him her name, Fury had just smirked.

"Miss, sending Tony or Captain Rogers would be kinder. To Logan."

Still, for some reason it had been decided that a tender touch might just work best. Darcy wasn't sure how tender her touch actually was, but she was good at dealing with grumpy people. Her mother had always said she had a gift for wheedling her way into people's sights, getting on their good side. And failing that, she could always just be annoying as hell. That would sure send the poor guy running back to Westchester, at least.

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Darcy lets herself have a good long nap after unpacking and taking a shower. Long, meandering plane rides are the utter worst, and she almost feels human again when she wakes up around dinner time. Tugging on her black coat and a Dr. Who scarf, which seems a proper commentary on the weather, she buries her hands in her pockets and heads for the only restaurant in town, which also happens to be the only bar.

Inside looks like every cozy diner she's ever seen on road trips with her mother, though off near the left side it's obviously more for straight-up bar patrons, neon PBR and Guinness signs casting blue light onto the pool table, and nary a No Smoking sign to be seen. To the right, more tables and chairs, and a family having dinner. Mostly it's taken up with the men and a few women from the nearby lumber mill. There's a giant St. Bernard under the bar, and Darcy decides that yes, she must sit near him, picking a stool in the middle of the counter.

"Hey hun, what'll you have?" Asks the middle-aged woman behind the bar, who looks a LOT like the elderly lady who runs the motel.

"Uh, pint of Guinness and a big bloody burger?" Darcy grins, and gets an appreciative "You got it!". She doesn't even get carded. That doesn't mean nobody's watching, though.

"You old enough to be drinkin'?" A voice drawls to her left, "Wait, scratch that. Are you even old enough to be in this town, alone?"

Darcy snorts, rolling her eyes and looking over at the figure sitting under his cloud of cigar smoke. Giving him the once-over to be sure, she lifts her chin, narrowing her eyes at him, before sliding over her SHIELD ID, "Twenty-one last month," She states, primly, as Logan groans over the white and blue card.

"Fuckin' hell, really?" He sighs, and then looks her up and down again. And frowns. "...That's still barely old enough to be an Agent. Why'd they send you?"

"Believe it or not, I am just here to hang out," Darcy grins, swinging her feet back and forth in their docs, above the lazy dog's head, as her beer is set in front of her, "No one's forcing you to come back or...yanno, acknowledge what happened." Wolverine lets out an unamused grunt, "But someone was concerned. And asked me to do her a favor."

"Which was?"

"Make sure you're alright."

"Right as rain. Now go home to your mother." Logan smirks. And Darcy smiles right back, foam mustache on her upper lip.

"Can't, I've got a burger coming, and mom's spending her summer in Thailand." She says lightly, wiping her mouth on her cuff. He just grumbles, burying himself in his glass of what looks like scotch.

"..I wasn't jokin' though, you really here alone?"

"There's...a chance SHIELD has men in black watching us right now, but otherwise, as far as I know for sure, yep," Darcy takes a long swig of her beer. "I've got mace and a taser on me though, I did pick up on the whole 'secluded lumber town' thing."

"Well it's true," Logan glances sideways at her, "Town's all right, but don't hang around the mill. You've got truckers and guys up here just for work, aint seen a soft girl in months. Fuckin' animals."

"Sounds like -exactly- the company I'd want to keep, if I took a vacation from the world." Darcy notes pointedly, and Logan shakes his head.

"Deservin' guys to knock around when the mood hits."

"See," She notes, as she gets her wonderfully unhealthy-looking burger, "You say that. But I happen to have it on very good authority that you are only half the hard-ass you pretend to be. Authority who had a big ol' crush on you, when she first met you outside a cage fight." There's a pause in the grumbling, and slowly, Logan puts out his cigar in a nearby ashtray.

"How do you know Rogue?" He asks, quietly, and as the cloud dissipates, Darcy sees a pretty good-looking dude, in that rough, scruffy, flannel-wearing way. She finishes her first big bite of burger before answering.

"High-school. Before she cut and run, anyway," Darcy's voice is a little softer then, picking at her fries, "Still a little pissed that she didn't tell me why. But then, super-people are kinda old news to me now. Anyway, we got back in touch when I moved to New York a couple months ago, with my boss..." She tilts her head to the side, "I met Remy last week. She really does have a type these days, doesn't she?"

"Do not compare me to that clown," Logan tells her sharply, even though he's grinning, motioning for a pint of what she's having. Darcy grins back, biting her lip.

"So totally not what I'd expected either, she was such a mushy virgin in school. I was pretty mushy myself, but she took it to a level. There were sweatshirts with cats on them involved. It wasn't pretty."

"...Please don't imply that my little Marie aint a virgin anymore," He winces. Darcy opens her mouth, ready to remind him that, Rogue's mutation or not, she's dating -Gambit-, but he holds up a hand, "Nope. Shut it." She does so, smirking, and returning to her burger. Logan watches her for a few more minutes, and then sighs, "...Are you REALLY gonna just. Hang around this town, stalkin' me?"

"That -is- my official assignment, yep, along with eventually, gently, persuading you to go back to New York," Darcy nods, licks her fingers clean of ketchup and grease, "You'd rather have a suit? Tony Stark?"

"...I'm thinkin'."

"Think of it another way," She bites her lip, eying him a little shyly now, "...They sent me, and not a pair of burly superheroes to drag you back and lock you up. That has to say something about how the people close to you see the incident. And how they see you. They're giving you your space," She plucks up her beer again, murmuring into the glass, "Just...making sure you're not beating yourself up."

"And they think a kid half my size is gonna keep me from beatin' myself up?" He's smirking again though, tossing back his beer as well. Darcy grins wide.

"Worked the last time you went running."

"...Fair enough."

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	2. Chapter 2

((Thank you for the reviews! I'm moving with a slower approach to this one, different things to get just right. Buildup, woohoo!))

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Chapter 2

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It turns out that Logan is staying in the motel as well. When Darcy asks, as she sways down the hall, why he's not in the free housing set up for mill workers, he just levels a look at her. "Darlin', I spend all day with those idiots. Why the hell would I want to be around 'em at night?"

Her laugh echoes down the hall. For all his supposed annoyance at her being there, he still walks her to her room and waits until he hears the latch pull, before moving toward his own.

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The next day Darcy is awoken by her phone going off, the dulcet tones of Ke$ha alerting her to her more suit-wearing boss calling. She stares in bleary confusion, at the lit-up screen, trying to remember why it was so weird to her that her phone was making noise. Then she sees the still-life of a moose on the wall next to the bed, and it all comes back to her.

"Reception was shitty here yesterday," Are the first words she greets Agent Phil Coulson with, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. It's 7am, but the sun is already bright around the edges of the dark blind over the window. Late Summer in Alaska for you, she supposed.

"Morning to you too, Agent Lewis. We improved it." Darcy rolls her eyes, toasting her toes over the heating vent for a few minutes. Of course SHIELD did some jiggery-pokey with satellites and maybe even her phone itself while she was sleeping, why the fuck not? "We'd prefer swift communication. Have you found Wolverine?"

"Assuming he hasn't skipped town in the night, yes," She grabs the biggest, softest old-man cardigan she's brought with her (that she totally might have swiped from Captain America's laundry basket, she'll give it back. The man has excellent taste in Remus Lupin-esque apparel), juggling her cell on her shoulders as she tugs it on, "He's fine. Broody. Hasn't started anything though. I don't think he'd be too agreeable though, if I'm reporting to you on his every move, every day."

"Noted. I'm glad you've established a rapport. We'll be watching." He hangs up, and Darcy peers at her phone suspiciously for a moment, as if it might bite her. No such bad luck, though, and so she scrolls through to see if she's missed anything in the two days that it's been off. There are a few texts from people who hadn't realized she'd been gone. No less than three missed calls and subsequent voice mails from someone she'd sworn she'd deleted from her phone. Thankfully there was one from Jane too, and that sufficiently distracts her from the ulcer threatening to start in her gut.

"Hey boss, eat breakfast?" She asks cheerily, tugging on a pair of yoga pants.

"Darcy you don't need to babysit me," Jane grumbles, and yet Darcy totally hears the crackling over the line of her boss opening a granola bar, and smirks, "I um...do kind of need an in on your filing system, though. This temp Coulson set me up with is as clueless as...well, you were, a year ago."

"Mmmm, brutal honesty. This is why we're friends," Darcy yawns, "I'll send you an email with my codes."

"Great. Um, did you steal clothes from...some people before you left?"

"Borrowed. It's not my fault most of my winter wear got left in California, I was promised a summer in New York."

"Well, just be sure you bring them back. Thor likes that flannel shirt."

"Yes mam."

And if Black Widow doesn't get her fox fur hat back before it gets cold here, I've been informed that your ability to walk may be forfeit."

Well. That hit the mark.

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The motel actually turns out to serve a pretty delicious homemade breakfast. Considering only four people are staying there though, and all of them for indefinite lengths of time, as Darcy learns from the elderly proprietor, this shouldn't be too surprising. Still, Darcy gratefully digs in to her scrambled eggs and pastries. Noting that the poor old gal seems bored, chatty and sweet, Darcy is perfectly happy to sit and ask questions about the town, the mill, and sneak in a few about what Logan's been up to.

She learns that, when winter comes and the loggers leave, the tiny blip on the map becomes a ghost town, most people leaving for larger towns further south. The man who runs the mill, his wife and kids, a few other long-time mill workers. The woman's daughter and son in law run the diner, and her brother owns the store. And yes, her friend did leave for work that day on his motorcycle, hard-hat in hand, and was she his girlfriend? Because she might be an old-fashioned lady, but she was perfectly fine with putting them both in one bigger room.

"Ah, not a problem, I'm just here to make sure he's eating his vegetables," Darcy quips, even as she knows her face is bright red.

"That's too bad, working up here kills plenty of romances for the young fellas." The old gal sighs, "No wonder they go a little crazy."

Suddenly Darcy is all about escaping the conversation, which weirds even herself out. Until she remembers that oh, right, coming here had been the perfect excuse for her to end a romance (or at least, an extreme-like-mance) as well.

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Darcy spends most of her day doing a whole lot of nothing. She's almost tempted to check out the mill, but for all her bravado, that's not going to happen. Because a girl can spout off against a culture that propagates women being intimidated by men all she wants and she's correct, but she's also not stupid. Though she won't let Logan know, the thought is frankly terrifying, and more power to the handful of cut babes who do work there. Darcy figures she can churn out a dynamite paper out of the experience, at least.

Instead she heads to the general store to poke around, and happily discovers that one corner of the big converted barn actually has a big old fireplace with couches and worn-out books on the shelves. "Never had a library, or community center, or even a church," The old man at the counter shrugs, "Figured it couldn't hurt to have a spot what could be all three." And like that, Darcy has found her saving grace. She settles into one of the ginormous old leather couches and dives into a simply ancient copy of Wuthering Heights, the Kindle in her motel room be damned. Aside from a break for a lunch of rock candy and donuts, her butt doesn't leave that couch for most of the day.

She tries to remind herself that working for SHIELD will probably never be like this ever again, it'll be back to lab-ratting, learning to fire a gun, and to wear a suit, and so she must enjoy this while it lasts.

"You're still here," Logan is actually the one to startle -her-, flopping down on the couch across from her. Darcy blinks, eyes going to the clock on the hearth, seeing that yep, it's well past 5pm. She looks back at Logan, whose hair is a little damp from a post-work shower. She clears her throat, unfolding herself from the couch to stand and stretch and god -damn-, her everything was stiff.

"I am," She finally replies, yawning, flopping back down, noting that the man was staring a little. She was rocking the good jeans today, with the Bob's Big Boy tanktop and Cap's cardigan. Darcy tilts her head, smirking, and Logan just gives her a glare, eyes snapping back up to her face. And then he holds up a somewhat greasy brown paper bag.

"I brought us fried chicken from the diner," He tells her, a bit too cordially. She blinks a few times.

"...Us."

"I figure the sooner I convince you I aint all torn up, the sooner you'll tell your bosses, and Rogue, that I'm fine, and then go home," He finally smirks, and Darcy outright grins.

"See, the flaw in that reasoning? Is that you'll still be in Alaska, brooding, and thus not that fine." She points out. He narrows his eyes again. "...But I'm all about free food!"

"Good. Grab your coat. Franklin hates people eating food in here that someone else made."

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It really is beautiful outside, the mountains looming around all blue and white and brown, the nearby lake a deep indigo. It's chillier than Darcy thinks August should ever be, but it's not unpleasant. She doesn't think she could ever get used to so much daylight, though, and says as much to Logan while they settle into their messy dinner, perched on the woodpile behind the store, tall-boys in hand.

"Oh it makes up for it in the winter," He assures her, grinning, "S'all just dark and snow and cold for months. Fuckin' miserable."

"Soooo, I take it this means you'll at least be back in Westchester before the snow starts falling?" Darcy pushes her luck, giving him wide eyes over her beer.

"You just do not let up, do you darlin'?" He grumbles, shaking his head, and Darcy gets the impression that she's pushed his limit for nagging. At least for the time being. So she backs down, quiet for a little while, eying him between her beer and her chicken, appreciating the way she can kinda still make out how buff his arms are in his denim jacket. Her eyes slide back up to his face, his gaze on the treeline. Her smile returns, a little softer now.

"Right, no more of it then," She replies quietly, eyes snapping to the trees as well when Wolverine turns to give Darcy the eye in turn. "You wheedle at me, now." He chuckles at that, which she takes as a good sign.

"Why're you here?"

"I kinda told you that as soon as I met you."

"You know what I mean," He grins again, and it's a really nice grin, Darcy decides. All grit and snark and genuine humor. Her kind of smile. "So they needed someone, and Rogue asked you. Still doesn't tell me why you said yes. And don't tell me it was just doin' her a favor," He adds, before she can fall back on that very easy, very sensible answer. Logan is a sharp cookie, that's obvious. "Young, pretty, just moved to New York City, workin' for a nice SHIELD paycheck, if I aint mistaken. Why the hell did you agree to come up here?"

"...Girl has to have her secrets, Wolvie," Darcy finally replies, swallowing, "...Needed to get some space. City will still be there when I get back...well," She corrects herself, smirking, "Hopefully. Kinda almost got itself destroyed this spring. But that's why we have Avengers for that sort of thing."

"So by rights," He concludes, still grinning, though it's lost its edge now, "You don't wanna hurry and finish this assignment either." Darcy's eyes narrow at the horizon, in consternation.

"And I think you called me pretty, back there somewhere." She points out, distraction tactics keen, and earning herself a chuckle.

"Oh, Chuck's good," Logan mumbles, tearing into another chicken wing, "Sent a gal he probably knew I could go ten rounds with."

"That an invitation, big guy?" She asks, voice dropping, grinning his way, and is rewarded with a chicken bone flicked at her head.

"Dangerous avenue there, darlin'," He clears his throat just a little too loudly, though, eyes flickering to her lips, "...So, how did you manage to leave enough of a wake behind you in New York, if you'd only been there two months?"

"Nosy, rude," Darcy tilts her nose in the air, feeling a good beer buzz coming on. And between the smell of woodsmoke, greasy fried chicken, and the good-looking guy next to her, all was pretty dang swell, despite his prying. "What can I say big guy, I work fast." She sighs. "Look, are you going to get into it about your little show back in Virginia?"

"Point taken. Just curious."

"Is being here like, cathartic?" Darcy asks, yet again changing the subject, suddenly. At this point Logan is already used to her flippant brain, she can tell. "I mean, the work has to be repetitive, the days, the people..."

"And after a while, everyone ignores you." He points out. Darcy nods, slowly, finishing the last of her chicken.

"More than fair, and good to know," She hops off the pile of logs, cracking her neck, "Let's go get hammered." The expression of Very Bad Idea on his face is priceless, eyes narrowing, watching her for a spell as if she's the more dangerous sort of animal. Darcy grins, tossing her long brown hair out of her face, "Please, you know you'll drink me under the table, so let's make it...educational."

A single scruffy brow cocks, and Wolverine looks intrigued despite himself. "As arguin' with you seems to be ten different kinds of pointless, lead on pretty girl."

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	3. Chapter 3

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Chapter 3

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They wander over to the diner, taking a table this time, and Darcy buys them a bottle of Captain Morgan's and a pile of cheese fries on SHIELD's tab, the blue company card Coulson had handed her when she left sliding across the counter. It's Saturday night, and the bar is full, so it's kind of nice to have a corner all to herself with a big burly mutant. In fact, to get the point across that she's not fresh meat, Darcy's practically on the edge of Logan's lap, the two of them talking close to be heard over the jukebox.

"How is it you already drink like a pro?" He asks, and Darcy laughs, pouring them both generous amounts of rum.

"I was actually a -very- well behaved teenager, with one minor exception," She clinks glasses with him, giving him eyes over the ice and dusky, spiced drink, "I really liked booze. And not even in the, 'I'm young and I'm gonna over-do it with shitty beer!' way. My grandpa was a fine connoisseur of scotch, rum, and whiskey. Got my palate going at nine."

"That's both appallin' and amazing," Logan chuckles, shaking his head, and Darcy waves a finger.

"Hey now, he never let me have more than a couple sips at a time...least until I was fifteen," She allows, grinning wide, "That man was the shit, the world is poorer without him."

"Sounds it," He rumbles, resting an arm across the back of her chair. Darcy shoots him a sly glance.

"So, as neither of us are talking about our recent woes, s'your turn to tell me a heartwarming tale from your childhood."

"I don't remember any," Logan shrugs, smirking a little, "Can't remember even bein' a child. Didn't they give you some intrusive file to read up on, before comin' to talk at me?" Darcy winces, biting her lip.

"I ah...might have skimmed it, and mostly relied on Marie's approximation of your character," She admits, squinting, studying his eyes...for science, totally, with an exclamation point. "Really? No childhood memories?"

"My head kickstarts somewhere in th' not so distant past, mhmm," He nods, draining his glass. Darcy pours him another finger. "And few of those stories are any kind of heartwarming." She winces.

"Geez, buzz kill, thy name is Logan," But the smile she gives him is soft, actually reaching up and giving his hair a scruff. "...So how old are you? The file said unknown, I read that part at least." Wolverine grins.

"No idea." He admits, "Though they've done some scrapin' at my bones under the metal, back in Westchester. And some pokin' around in war records, knowin' what to look for. Chuck estimates I could be around...two-hundred years old." He eyes her as he says it. Darcy's brows just go up a bit.

"...Bitchin'," The SHIELD agent grins, biting her lip and pouring herself another glass, "My best friend is fucking a Norse god, so two-hundred years old is kind of...precious, in my experience." She winks, and Wolverine laughs, long and loud.

"I still don't believe he's really Thor," The mutant cracks, and Darcy shakes her head.

"Believe it, babe. Only...all right, so technically, he's more of an alien from an advanced Realm whom folks just figured was a god back in the day. But Jane's been to Asgard herself, and dragged me with her," She shudders, "...Gorgeous, but talk about feeling small." Suddenly he's staring at her again, intent and intrigued, and that hand is totally playing with her hair.

"You. Have been to Asgard." He leans in close, "...How deep are you in, with the Avengers?" Darcy licks her lips, still grinning, liking the way those eyes of his followed the trail her tongue left.

"Like I said. Best friend, screwing Norse god," She swishes her rum in her glass, "She happens to be Jane Foster though, and I happen to be her assistant. Which got me my job... Oh shit!" She realizes, eyes going wide, "I'm the posse. I'm one of the annoying little people who hangs on when the rap album goes platinum, and trails the breadwinner onstage at the Grammy's, as if they'd done anything besides pick up the fast food and make copies of the mix tape...eh, I'll take it." She grins again, and earns herself another laugh.

"So. Tell me something heartwarming. Maybe my memory will get jogged for somethin'." Logan allows, digging into the cheesy fries with the hand that isn't in her hair. Darcy grins, tilting her head to the side, thinking.

"...Alright, so my mom is kind of a gypsy?" She starts, and he gives her a lofted brow, "Moved everywhere when I was a kid, we kinda lived out of the van for a few years." She motions, imperfectly, as she tells her tale, the scent of nag-champa and jasmine swirling in her memory, "She made a bed for me in the back seats, all hippie tapestries and quilts, and told me bedtime stories about Jim Morrison and Stevie Nicks, even though she'd barely even been there when they'd first happened." Darcy sighs, "...jar any memories with you?"

"...Did get high with Jimi Hendrix a few times," Logan admits, looking her over with new eyes, as if trying to picture a little-Darcy as a hippie-love-child. "Still, that was after my head kick-starts. You couldn't have been born until way after the peace and love generation."

"Truth," Darcy points his way, grinning, pouring them yet another round, "Mom was kind of a throw-back...speaking of!" She pipes up, as there's a lag at the jukebox. "There's been way too much Toby Keith tonight!" She proclaims loudly, hopping up and moving toward the music machine. She feels Logan's eyes on her, hard, as she slides in quarters and punches in a few songs, dancing back to him as Van Morrison starts up, grinning. "Now, you're gonna have to dance with me," She proclaims, helped along by the booze. A handful of mill workers take up the tune, laughing and jubilant.

"I don't dance," Logan says firmly, even as she tugs him up with a tender hand, pulling him into her arms from her diminutive vantage point.

"Oh psht, guys have it so easy when it comes to slow dancing," She hums, sliding her arms up around his neck, grinning, eyes half-lidding in the face of spiced rum, "Move, and establish yourself as that guy with the hot piece of ass, who came all the way up to friggin' Halfmast, Alaska to see him while he was workin'."

"You think pretty highly of yourself, mm?" He grins, even as his feet awkwardly shuffle across the floor, hands resting low on her back, to the low and dreamy strands of Into The Mystic. Darcy giggles, nodding, humming softly to herself.

"Mom used to sing this song as she did the dishes, with a hose at a trailer stop and a kerchief around her head..." She says at length, toward the end of the song, catching his eye, smiling a little at the way he's kind of gone relaxed and a little spell-bound, if she's not mistaken, lifting her chin, "...Still no stories to tell -me-, Wolvie?"

"My stories aint so sweet and entertaining," He rumbles, dragging her back to the table, Darcy laughing all the way. He stares into their glasses of ice a-fresh, And Darcy is quick to fill them up again.

"Not even the tender tale of how you and Marie became friends?" Darcy knows she's hit a kind-of spot, as he sends her a sharp look, right before he yanks her into his lap, even though it makes her laugh.

"Somethin' tells me you already know that story all too well,"

"Not from how you saw it."

He sighs, shaking his head, "...She saw some kinda knight in shining armor, I think. I saw a little girl who needed to be taken home to her mama, the faster the better," He chuckles again, "...What she could do, though? Explained how she'd gotten so far on her own." He smirks, "I kinda wish we'd had more time, just the two of us. The bait and the con, we'd of had a hell of a time," Darcy laughs, putting him further at ease.

"I once made her distract a store clerk when we were fifteen so I could lift some makeup," She divulges, leaning back against his chest, hands on the firm arm across her middle, "She cried about it afterward and I felt so bad about dragging her into my devious web, I put it all back,"

"Thought you said you were a good kid?"

"All her fault," Darcy sighs, finally just plucking up the bottle of rum and taking a swig.

"How come you don't have the thick southern drawl too, mm?" Logan asks, taking the bottle from her hands, and Darcy totally doesn't imagine they way he's pressing his face close to the curve of her neck.

"...We only lived in Mississippi five years, 'round me going to high-school." She's starting to slur, she can tell, but it really doesn't matter. There's a warmth in her veins, and a really solid, really freakin' attractive, masculine guy drinking with her, holding her in his lap. She's never really been up close and personal with his type before, and it's really, really nice, Darcy decides in her increasingly drunk haze, "Gypsies, remember? Mom had sense when it came to school at least."

"No dad?" He's playing with her hair again, and Darcy shakes her head, squinting, grinning.

"She was a party girl before she got knocked up at fifteen, doesn't know who he is." She shrugs, "But she sobered up soon as she found out 'bout me. Didn't even start dating again 'til Mississippi," Her grin is wide, "I had a steady man in gramps, though. No daddy issues, if you're wondering," She waggles her eyebrows over her shoulder, and Logan snorts.

"With me it'd be more great-great-great-grandfather issues, I think."

"Yanno, I've been wondering if that's Cap's girlfriend's damage..."

Logan's laughter practically breaks the sound barrier.

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Darcy wakes up with a pounding headache, and a man in her room, setting a plate of toast, a mug of coffee, and a bottle of Motrin on her bedside table.

"Oh god, tell me my virtue is still intact."

Logan just raises a brow to that, fully dressed and looking as if he's suffering no ill-effects from polishing off a bottle of rum whatsoever. Fucking mutants, man. At least he even get drunk, Darcy doesn't think she'll ever stop feeling bad for Steve. "Afternoon," He smirks, as she sits up, noting that she's still in her tank-top and bra, yet is decidedly pants-less. "...Y'took 'em off yourself, don't worry."

"My only regret would be that I wouldn't remember a damn thing," She manages to wink, pretty sure she looks like death warmed up, washing down three painkillers with a scalding gulp of black coffee. It's like he read her mind, or her usual hangover cure is more universal than Darcy figured. Probably the latter, Professor X is the one who reads minds. Logan chuckles, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall, watching her slowly come back to life.

"Nah, after the bottle was gone, you uh," He waves a hand at the phone on her pillow, "Got a call from some guy named Jeremy, cussed 'im out, stormed out of the diner, threw up in the hall..." Darcy groans, burying her face in her hands, but Wolverine is still grinning, "So I put you to bed."

"Wise course of action," She grumbles, tucking in to her toast, "The Wolverine is in fact a gentleman."

"I do prefer participation by all parties," He clears his throat, "...So do I get to know about the punk?" He asks, grin softening a bit. Darcy gives him a bleary glare.

"As soon as I get to hear about Virginia," She maintains. Logan nods once, pushing off the wall.

"That'll take a few more nights out, Darlin'," He winks, reaching over and mussing her hair before he heads for the door. She follows him with her eyes, smirking.

"I'll go slightly easier on the sauce."

"Oh I hope so."

And damnit, there's definitely some actual promise in that shit-eating grin of Wolvie's.

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	4. Chapter 4

((All this love, it pleases me. And don't worry, I've definitely got some fresh Darcy/Cap in the works for elsewhere.

...Darcy Lewis is short. She'll always be short, and this will always make writing the acrobatics of making out with superheroes...interesting.))

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Chapter 4

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"So how unprofessional is it to be -really- hot and bothered by my target?" Darcy muses aloud not too much later into her cell phone, Jane on the other end, having called for an update on her progress and to find out when she was getting her competent assistant back. There's silence, and then,

"You're asking the woman engaged to a Norse god who fell out of the sky and validated her research, Darce. I'm not exactly the expert on propriety in working relationship," She is reminded. "Though I do know enough to advise that you NOT pose that question to Coulson. And isn't Wolverine a little old for you?"

"Again, says the woman with the immortal. And I think he's a little too old for most human women, so that's a moot point." Darcy sighs, wandering around her room, tidying up. How she'd managed to trash it in the five minutes between coming back from the bar and passing out, she had no idea. She was just talented like that, when hammered. "I'm very...weird and impulsive, Jane, but this is my first real assignment since getting the badge. Even if it is cushy, I want to do well. But I also really want to be all over that."

"Would you be breaking any codes of Holy Sisterhood?"

"Marie is regularly getting her mind blown by Gambit, I think she's over her teenage crush." Darcy takes a whiff of her discarded jeans. Ahhh, the vague scent of last night's regurgitated cheesy fries. Darcy Lewis is, as her buddy Captain America would say, one classy broad.

"Mkay. Then honestly, if it gets the man happy and talking, you may actually be doing your job exactly right."

"You are SUCH an enabler, Dr. Foster." The physicist laughs.

"I try...so wait, how does Rogue have sex?"

"There's...a complicated system of body stockings involved..."

"...Do tell. For science, obviously."

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By mid-afternoon and after a shower, a thorough tooth-brushing, and more coffee, Darcy feels like some vague approximation of a functioning human. Wrapping herself up in her coat, fingerless gloves and a pair of aviators, she goes for a turn through the picturesque outdoors, hoping to get some blood flowing. Taking a path into the woods and toward the lake she'd spotted from atop the woodpile yesterday, Darcy soon spots her quarry standing at the water's edge...fishing pole in hand.

"...Not sure why I'm finding this to be so incongruous, but I am," Darcy quips, somewhat expecting to startle Logan with her rather silent approach. No such luck, though, and the big mutant just turns his head toward her, smirking once, and then turning back to the water, squinting.

"Quit stompin' through the woods like that Agent, you'll scare off the fish," He drawls, adjusting his line. The sleeves on his shirt are rolled up, despite the very distinct chill, and there's already a white bucket half full of very dead fish at his side. Darcy gives the bucket a wide berth, not quite a fan of the scent in her post-hangover conditions, moving to flop down on the grass under the trees, out of the sun.

"Ah right, forgot, your senses are all...animally," She squints behind her shades, the sun still too bright for her liking, though the brilliant blue sky was gorgeous. As were the mountains, the trees, the bears that were no doubt hanging out somewhere -in- those trees. Logan grins.

"Somethin' like that," He allows, reeling in his line as something gives it a tug. "I try not t'be obvious about it. Gets folks actin' weird." Even as he says this, though, Logan yanks a large, flopping animal out of the water and after a quick glance around, one adamantium claw shoots out of his fist, spearing right through the fish's head. Darcy lets out a low whistle.

"I was wondering when you'd flash me your metal," She grins, as he tosses the quite dead fish in with the others. Logan lofts a brow her way, and with another glance around the lake, seeing not a soul, he lets out all three on one fist with a satisfying 'snikt' and a sharp grin. Darcy can't help her little intake of breath, some weird jolt going through her belly. She's not sure when pointy objects became her thing...probably within the last thirty seconds.

"...So," She clears her throat, and his eyes squint, fixed somewhere around the pulse point on her neck. Guh, "...Before the adamantium, do you know if you still had 'em?"

"Yep," He looks to the lake again, eyes still narrowed, stance gone crouching and feral. Darcy decides that yes, she's definitely a fan. Suddenly he drives a fist into the water, drawing it out with a small, flopping fish impaled on his claws. "Ugh, see, this approach don't work so well in a lake. River, sure, but..." He tosses the runt into the bucket. "But yeah, I had bone claws before, we're pretty sure."

"...How do you make smelling like fish look good, dude?" Darcy hears herself ask out-loud, jaw a little slack, and Logan snorts, laughing.

"I don't, you're just warped in the head, girl." He rises, retracting his claws and rolling his shoulder. The difference is subtle. He'd been just as gruff, as scruffy, but the eyes had gone more intent, his expression more animalistic, sharply aware of the surroundings. Now Logan settles again, his posture more human, eyes deceptively relaxed as he sets aside his fishing pole, sitting nearby in the grass. "...How's the stomach?" He asks, sending her a sly look.

"Why do I think you can already tell?" Darcy smirks, rolling over in the grass and facing the woods, as he retracts one claw again, proceeding to gut and clean his catch outside of her line of vision, "...What exactly do you plan on doing with all that dead flesh, mm?"

"Eh, I've been droppin' 'em at the store," He shrugs, "Let 'em fry it up for their Sunday prayer meetin'."

"Wolverine, a credit to the community," Darcy smiles up at the leaves, honing in on the sounds of slicing and scraping behind her, and Logan's low chuckle.

"Fishing is relaxin', and I don't like waste," He says quietly, and Darcy shuts her eyes behind her shades, quite content at the moment with the wind and the chill and the company, "And there's only so much t'do in this town when I aint workin', case you hadn't noticed kiddo...you bored enough to skip town yet?"

"Oh not even close," She grins wide, lofting her brows meaningfully, "I've got -plenty- to do." Darcy could practically hear him shaking his head.

"This how you wrecked New York behind you? With th' cheesiest lines ever? Cause darlin', I'd believe it."

"It's totally working on you, though."

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Darcy has all of two beers that night, which at once both settles her stomach and gives her just enough of a buzz to be all loose-limbed and easy-going again, having slipped into something less than weather-appropriate, and actually swiping on some lipstick for the first time since she left Manhattan. There may be a little voice in the back of her head, asking herself if she really is dragging this "mission" out for more than just a good time, avoiding the return to the state of New York just as much as her target is. Darcy stubbornly hangs onto Jane's logic, though. She's getting the man talking, and Alaska has turned out to be far more interesting than she'd anticipated. Maybe she is avoidant. But avoidance has never been so enjoyable.

"So, what intrusive questions am I gettin' tonight, mm?" Logan asks, though he's looking far from bothered by her persistence as they lean on the bar, a hand firmly in her hair and eyes unabashedly flickering between her rack and her lips. Darcy adjusts the little black dress under her jacket, that she -may- have swiped from Natasha, grinning thoughtfully.

"Hmmm, who was your first love? Well, no," She quickly amends, "First one you can remember?" Logan sighs, shaking his head, though he still seems amused.

"The wrong gal, that's who. Didn't go so well, she was kinda in love with someone else," He shrugs, raising his beer in salute, "Died a bit ago. I held one helluva torch, though." Darcy bites her ruddy lip, wincing a little.

"Jeez, sorry hun..."

"Nah, she's fine now," He smirks at her perplexed frown, and subsequent blinking, "Married the bastard, too. I got 'em a fancy blender as a wedding gift." Darcy shuts her eyes, shaking her head.

"Wait, she died...but she's fine now?" Logan laughs, though his voice remains below the music level, in case anyone else might overhear their conversation about superheroes. Darcy's pulled in close to his side to listen, more than willing.

"She's a mutant. And I've died too," He shrugs, Darcy's jaw drops. "Well, t'be fair, I probably wasn't all dead, those times," He allows, taking a long drink, "Basically, my healin's always caught up before it got fatal, and the metal in my bones keep me from getting torn apart by most things."

"That's...insane," Darcy shakes her head, grinning, and there's a definite edge of awe to her voice, eying him up and down afresh, her tone genuine for all the shameless flirting she's been doing. "And amazing, seriously. It's too bad you don't have more cheery stories to go with the excellent super powers," She bites her lip, as he stands a little closer, meeting her eyes.

"Thought you lived with a buncha superheroes darlin', cheery stories aint really par for th' course," He points out, tucking a long, wavy lock of hair behind her ear, his rough fingers trailing along her jawline. Darcy shakes her head again, humming.

"Oh sweetie, I regret t'tell you that Stark Tower is awash in fairytale endings," She informs him, her voice gone low and husky, "...least for Iron Man anyway, who's getting married on New Years," She allows, leaning both elbows back against the bar.

"Exception that proves th' rule," He maintains, eyes wandering pleasantly again, "...And you? Leave your first love behind you in Manhattan? Mississippi?" Darcy snorts.

"Hardly," She tilts her chin up, only half-faking the proud tone when she informs him that, "I, Darcy Elanor Lewis, have never been in love," She smirks up at him, "I mean, there was Drew Perkins, in second grade. Left me for an exotic redhead. I don't think I'm over it even now," She sighs, and Logan chuckles.

"It's a royal pain in the ass," He maintains, tilting his head, looking her up and down, appreciative and slow this time, and Darcy feels the back of her throat go dry, her stomach curling in a very pleasant way. "...You're much better suited t'breakin' hearts anyway." Darcy grins, tilting forward and wrapping her arms around his neck, a hand sliding over those sideburns.

"That may be the best compliment I have ever gotten, Mr. The Wolverine."

"I aim t'please."

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At the end of the evening, when he walks her to her door and proceeds to lift her in both arms, back her up against the door and kiss her, almost prying her lips apart with that evil tongue of his, Darcy's pretty convinced that she has the best life. Then she just stops thinking for a while, the otherwise near-constant running commentary in her head silent for once, as she savors the brand new experience of a superhero going to town on her, wrapping her legs around his waist, his big hands pushing up her cotton skirt a bit as he's gripping at her thighs.

He tastes like the beer they'd been drinking, and his clothes have that comforting, lingering scent of his cigars. Darcy grips the edge of his leather jacket hard with one hand, her other arm thrown around his neck, fingers in his hair, pressing herself hard against him even though he's probably close to bending her door inward. Her teeth sink into his bottom lip, and Logan lets out a low growl, the sound reverberating somewhere deep in her gut.

Most guys Darcy has dated have been the skinny, nerdy type, and while they'll always have their charm, she finds herself responding to Wolverine from somewhere primal, pounding in her blood. She's sliding her hands everywhere, through his hair, over those thick arms holding her up, her head falling back against the door when his mouth moves to her neck. When that possessive, grinning growl leaves his throat again, just before he bites into the tender flesh just under her jaw, Darcy's brain shuts off altogether, and she's groaning, shutting her eyes, rolling her hips against his. His lips are on hers again then, one hand coming up to grip in her hair just hard enough to get her to make that needy sound again.

And then he's pulling back, smiling, letting her down gently, reaching up and pushing a hand through his hair, "...Well Darlin', sleep well." He winks, and Darcy gapes at him for a moment, before narrowing her eyes, crossing her arms. "Gotta be up early in the mornin', some of us actually work."

"...Oh, you are one smooth bastard," She breathes, leaning back against the door again, knowing she at least looks properly tousled. For all his smarmy grinning, he does look her over again, slowly, licking his lips hungrily, "You work all week, bub."

"...That I do," He feigns a pondering look, rubbing his chin as he moves down the hall, Darcy's half-lidded, lusty glare following him.

"Challenge accepted, Wolvie," She murmurs to herself, grinning.

As it turns out, Logan is only able to hold out for another day, and then just barely.

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	5. Chapter 5

((It's always fun for me when sex can be the catalyst to a deeper emotional exchange, as opposed to the ultimate goal of one (though I adore those stories too!). And, in my case at least, often more true to life. That said *cough* here have some smut :D))

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Chapter 5

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Darcy was well aware of certain things that people assumed about her. It was, in part, why she'd been so eager to skip town, after all. Generally though, she let it all roll off her back like so much water, and when she did return to New York, whatever whispering was or wasn't still going on would be the least of her worries. Darcy could handle whispering, she told herself. Because it was that much more amusing when she ruined people's generally negative first impression of her. Those who knew her, at least, hadn't given the current rumors any weight. She was glad Agent Coulson and Director Fury had followed their lead.

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The next morning, she was greeted with a missed call from someone whose contact she actually welcomed, grinning, hitting the call-back button and falling back against her bed like a teenager, feet flailing in the air. "Maaaaarieeeeeee," She greets, sing-songing, "How's the Empire State, baby?"

"There's leaves fallin' here already sugar, nor sure what to do with myself," Rogue sighs dramatically, in the southern belle voice Darcy knows so well, which is just far more adult these days, "But I guess the North East's got nuthin' on where you're at, mmm?"

"Not even close, I had to steal wintery clothes from my big muscley roommates before leaving," Darcy grins, "I smell like a hodge-podge of Captain America, Jane Foster and Black Widow."

"Sexy. How's my buddy doin'?"

"He's...interesting," Darcy can't keep the grinning out of her voice, and she knows that with Rogue, she really doesn't need to. The mutant is chuckling on the other end already, "Seriously though, if he's doing any brooding, I haven't seen it."

"Logan doesn't brood like us normal people," Marie sighs, making Darcy bite her lip, listening closely all of a sudden. She's got her job to do, after all, "He just...wanders off, and thinks it's enough t'make people forget. He thinks not being there will make us go on with our lives without sparin' him a thought, the idiot."

"Sounds like someone I am! I mean, someone I know," Darcy winces, "Someone I...might be. So, we've got more in common than I first thought!" She can almost hear the grin on the other end of the line. The girl she'd once been a terrible influence on, now become this worldly superhero who's grappled with evil, is far more perceptive than Darcy has yet gotten accustomed to. "...You're sure you don't mind if I, you know. Climb your old crush like a tree?"

"Baby, he is in DIRE need of a lay, and there's nobody I'd want t'give it to 'im more," She can imagine Marie narrowing her bright eyes, smirking, tapping her gloved fingers against her cell, "Question is sugar, how ready are you to give up your V-Card?"

"Shh, that's a well-kept secret, babydoll..."

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Darcy totally plays her full hand of cards and charms Millie, the old biddie who runs the motel, into giving her a key to Logan's room. It isn't hard, and perhaps the ol' gal already knows very well what's going down. In fact, Darcy hopes to have that level of intuition herself when she's old and gray, it is a naturally-occurring super-power all it's own.

When Logan comes back to his room after a long day of work at the mill, it's to a half-naked SHIELD agent lounging on his motel bed. Darcy is shamelessly sporting her navy tank-top, navy lace panties, and not much else, grinning up at him from the scratchy, low-budget motel comforter. "So Wolvie, what was that about having such a -full- work week?" She grins, tilting her head, and his jaw goes slack, eyes fixed somewhere around her hips.

"...How'd you get in here?" he asks, oh so eloquently, dropping his hardhat by the door, stepping out of his boots, and moving slowly towards her. She knows he's not nearly tired from a full day at the lumber mill either, and Darcy thanks the powers that be, which are most likely Thor and his weird family. Huzzah, mutants and their stamina.

"It turns out that Millie is totally a fan of our torrid affair," She rises up onto her knees, shuffling across the bed and reaching for his shirt, working at the buttons already as despite himself, his big hands settle in her long hair, "...At least, she was after I rambled on for a while about how much I enjoy your arms..."

"Determination. I like that. Good quality in an agent," Logan smirks, hands sliding through her hair and down her back as he moves right up to the edge of the bed, settling on her hips. "Though if I find out yer just seducin' me in hopes of a promotion back at SHIELD, I'll be real disappointed, darlin'." Darcy grins, shutting her eyes when he bends to kiss her neck.

"Nope, I am seducing you because I really, -really- want you to fuck me," She confesses, earning herself a playful growl, before getting tackled back onto the bed. He kisses her, hands still kneading her hips, pushing her back into the pillows, letting go only for a few moments as she pushes off his shirt. "Oh god, that shouldn't be legal," Darcy groans against his mouth, her fingers sliding over his muscled chest. Logan's chuckle moves through both of them, prompting her to grind up against him a bit. The combination of his denim and her lace does all kinds of interesting things.

"You're one t'talk, darlin'," He drawls, propping himself up on an elbow, his other hand pushing up her top, brushing over her ample tits with those wonderfully rough fingers of his. Darcy's head falls back with a whimper, because -damn-, those hands, "S'like some horny, nerdy teenager wished you into the world," He flashes her a grin, before sliding down a bit and replacing his fingers with his mouth. Her breath starts coming in little gasps, as he bites and sucks on her tits. Darcy tosses off her tank top entirely, groaning, entirely new to this business of chest hair and sideburns brushing against her soft, pale skin.

"Busted, I'm actually the product of..." She pauses, breath catching as he gently works a nipple between his teeth, her hands fisting in his thick hair, "...Weird Science." Wolverine chuckles again, and yep, Darcy's sure he can keep right on doing that, as long as it's while his mouth is on her skin.

"Pretty sure that's me," He murmurs, moving lower, his lips on her belly and his thumbs hooking under the lace of her panties. Darcy gives a long groan of approval, and he's tugging them down and away, putting his mouth to the smooth, newly-exposed flesh. She's not entirely distracted, though, one clever foot at just the right level to rub against the front of his jeans as his tongue goes to work on something other than their witty banter.

For all his rough edges, Logan knows what to do with his mouth, finding that one spot and working it, his tongue rolling against her clit, that feral little growl now a constant undercurrent to his breathing, thrumming through her. "Oh," She gasps, her hips rocking upwards, and while they're still in familiar territory for her, Darcy's pretty sure she's never had it this good. He's grinning against her pussy, teasing a pair of calloused fingers between her folds and sliding back up to kiss her lips, and she's arching up into it, an arm around his neck.

There's a sharp intake of breath through her teeth, though, when Wolverine meets the inevitable bit of resistance, and then he's pulling back, staring down at her, blinking, "...Darcy..."

It's the first time he's said her first name, she's pretty sure. Darcy bites her lip, lifting her chin and hoping that she somehow manages to come across as both defiant and totally chill, despite being naked. He's shutting his eyes wincing, shaking his head, and her eyes narrow, hands catching his belt loops before he can pull away, "Hey, don't freak out on me, Wolvie," She murmurs, and Logan looks down at her sharply, conflict all over his face.

"Yer still..."

"Yeah but I'm also not an innocent, doe-eyed, love-sick teenager," She points out, even as she's swallowing hard cause, hello, nobody wants to be rejected, especially not when they're naked and warm with a man -this- hot, and had -just- been on the cusp of one amazing orgasm. Logan winces again, and she knows he's still in the game for the moment, his erection insistent somewhere around her thighs.

"...Got only part a'that right," He finally replies, low and growling again, fingers now returning to move against her clit, slow now, and Darcy gives him a little whimper, biting her lip. "Those eyes of yours could end a man," He mumbles, dipping to kiss her exposed throat, "...Yer wastin' this on me though, darlin'..."

"Bullshit," She gasps out, her hips rocking against his hand, white-knuckled as one hand still grips his jeans, the other now in his hair, cause there's no way in hell she's letting him leave. Her voice drops, eyes half-lidded as he looks into them again, steady and focused, "Logan, you are -exactly- what I want."

Darcy figures she's hit a nerve with his more feral side, and it's that side of his brain who wins out, because he's growling, grinning, attacking her mouth with renewed vigor. She catches herself mewling right back, writhing under him, pawing at the fly of his obnoxiously -still there- jeans. He spares a hand to help her out, kicking off the offending denim, and hot damn, Wolverine totally goes commando. Also something that shouldn't be so attractive, and yet there's a fresh warmth pooling in her belly, just as he fingers her back up to orgasm, biting his lip hard as she comes.

There's a triumphant sound in her ear as she's whimpering, reaching between them and grabbing his cock and woah nelly, this was gonna be interesting. Darcy almost rethinks this particular life choice, almost, until he's sliding his fingers inside of her again, as she's still trembling with her orgasm. She's so wet now, and they move inside her not that painfully (she's had a couple of toys in her day...small ones, but still), and yes, yes she definitely wants that cock in her hand, stroking him in time with his fingers.

Virginity was such an imprecise term, Darcy had always thought. This, she'd done to a guy before, knowing just how to handle him, making his breath come short and unhinged in her ear. But never a guy...a man, like this. With arms like Logan's, the metal she knows is underneath...it gets her groaning again, even as he's stroking her, and she's throwing her free arm around his neck again, her mouth going to his shoulder, biting down hard, knowing it won't hurt him much, just to hear him rumbling in her blood. Yes, this was definitely brand new.

"Logan," She groans in his ear, making his hips shudder a little, her grip on his cock tightening, "Please, fuck me," She swallows, knowing she probably sounds like some breathy porn star but hey, she comes by it honestly and it really seems to be doing it for him, the big man grinning, just before kissing her. His lips are surprisingly soft on her's, as he settles low between her thighs, a big hand gripping one hip as his other flashes over to the bedtable drawer, fumbling around a bit until he lights on a foil wrapper. Darcy inwardly smacks herself for forgetting about protection. Way to be a virgin, Agent Lewis.

When he pushes up into her though, slowly, she very easily ignores everything else in the world but him. A sharp hiss escapes her, and he stills, kissing her again, slow and lazy and warm as her body adjusts around him. Wolverine is just so -big-, everywhere, and while Darcy might have been intimidated by that kind of thing once, here, with him looming over her, cradling her face in his hands, it's incredibly hot. She finds her hips rolling almost without her permission, and he makes some guttural sound in his throat, as if he can't keep himself in check anymore.

"Damnit, darlin'," He breathes, thrusting to meet her, and as the initial sting fades away, Darcy's pretty sure she's seeing stars. A rough hand moves low, over her breasts and down to her hip, gripping it hard as he fucks her, his eyes sliding shut as she rocks up into him. She must be doing this right.

He startles her then by flipping them over, sitting up, which puts her in his lap, his lips catching hers again, hard, before murmuring, "Don't wanna crush ya..." Ah, right, metal skeleton. His hands on her hips, guiding her back into a rhythm, Darcy's head falls back when he hits her at a whole new angle, the ache between her legs now pleasant and building and oh. She cries out as her orgasm surprises her, and those thick arms of his crush her to his chest, to his lips, and she feels him coming inside of her, biting his bottom lip hard.

As her breathing slows again, her heart still pounding in her ears, Darcy feels downright boneless, resting her forehead against his shoulder. She feels his hands swimming through her hair, and her eyes shut, fingers pressing into his back.

"...Well," She can hear him smirking, and it makes her grin too, nipping his shoulder again playfully, "...Got that in yer arsenal now, Agent."

"Mmmm," She hums, her voice all rough and low now, "You're just a regular sweet talker, aren't you Wolvie?"

"Romance was never one of m'sellin' points..."

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Some time later, when the sun is still slanting in through the windows as if it's mid-afternoon, Darcy's still in his room, wrapped up in one of his flannel shirts. She's got another person to swipe clothes from, which has her pleased, curled up around him like a cat, a big arm holding her close to his side. Walking her fingers through the hair on his chest, Darcy grins, biting her lip, watching his face. "Glad you're still not freaking out." Logan smirks around the beer he's grabbed from his mini fridge, shrugging.

"You're nothin' to freak out over, darlin'." He murmurs, stroking her hair idly. "I am curious, though...y'aint shy in bed, how come it never happened?" Darcy shrugs, though if she were being honest with herself, she'd admit she knew this would probably come up eventually. Just like Virginia and Jeremy and bad choices all around would come up eventually. They'd established a rapport, as Agent Coulson would say. There likely wasn't much they weren't going to talk about, at some point. She looks down, making invisible patterns on his skin with one finger.

"...I always did treat it like something special. But not in the way it is for most people who wait. You know, falling in love first, all that crap," Darcy chews on the inside of her mouth, pointedly not looking up at his face yet. "...I still thought it was something important, though. That makes you different, that ties you to someone..." She sighs, shaking her head, not sure if she was explaining herself enough. "...People break," She finally admits, feeling him shift a little under her, "They get sick, or lose themselves, or there's an accident...in case you haven't noticed, I don't get close to many people, so when I do..."

"...It's a Tower fulla Superheroes and geniuses." He finishes for her, and she lets out a breath of relief. Thor-bless older men. "Who don't get broken easy."

"...Yeah," Darcy chews on her bottom lip now, thoughtfully, "...This, this might never be more than a good time we have in the middle of nowhere, but," She does look up at him then, through her lashes, tentative and looking more her age when she does, "...You've got something of me. And odds are you won't be -actually- gone any time soon."

Logan smirks, softly, nodding once, "Nope, no I won't," He agrees, regarding her closely, his thumb rubbing circles on her arm, "And I don't hold it lightly...But that's a helluva way to be, darlin', at your age. I know why I am, but you... who died?" He asks bluntly, but Darcy shakes her head, burrowing into him.

"Next time, bub," She murmurs, and he presses a kiss to her hair.

"Fair enough."

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	6. Chapter 6

((Feels! Well. Some of them, anyway, these two have enough damage to start a band and this chapter is just scraping the surface. And can you tell that there are only two people I will ever ship with Movie Verse!Steve, in my own little headcanon? I bet you can!))

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Chapter 6

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As it turns out, sex is pretty amazing. And while Darcy might not be an expert, she's pretty sure that sex with Logan is akin to both really good scotch, and straight up cocaine. Bitter and delicious and leaving her warm, sated and loose-limbed...and when she doesn't have him, she's craving him somewhere under her skin, itching and persistent and only satisfied when he's back, pushing her up against walls, into the bed, or (memorably) over the desk in her motel room. She's really starting to warm to the place and it's unimaginative, rustic décor. Honestly, the hovel will forever hold a place in her heart.

And maybe they both do keep diving into each other to keep mouths busy, hands distracted, minds in a haze of lust. But there's the way Wolverine's looking at her now, eyes fixed and intent on hers, and Darcy knows she's giving him that stare right back, right before he kisses her, moves inside of her, back to forgetting about everything except salty skin and ragged breaths. They've barely known each other a week, but Darcy knows they're kindreds in angst. Which isn't so bad.

It's when she's walking back from the tiny, understocked grocery store (they had Nutella though, which, hooray for priorities that Darcy can support) that things shift a bit further. Logan's leaning on his bike outside the motel as she approaches, hand cupped around a cell phone that looks so out of place in his possession. He's just come in from work, boots still saw-dusty, hardhat resting on his knee, and as Darcy draws closer, she hears his voice low and soft, a tone she's only heard a few times.

She opts to give him his space, giving him a little smile as she heads inside, and gets a downright warm one in return. There's feelings in it. Darcy beds down the old ingrained response of fleeing for her life, because this is her homeboy here. Whom she happens to sleep with, guilty, but still. She goes inside, stocking her mini-fridge with orange juice and fruit, her wardrobe with junk food, and then turning around and around in her room for a few minutes, before going back outside.

He's wandered off, but not far. Darcy finds him on the woodpile behind the general store, freshly-lit cigar in hand, squinting out over the lake. Taking a breath, she climbs up to sit next to him, nudging him a little. Eyes still on the far off water through the trees, Logan's arm curls around her shoulders, making her feel small, as he usually does. "How's it, Wolvie?" She asks, easily enough.

"Better'n most days," He replies, just as easy, but it's one of the first real admissions of what he's been through. Tapping ashes from his cigar, Logan clears his throat before going on, "Jubilee got my number from Chuck. The emergency one. He musta thought it's be good for me, hearin' from the kid."

"Was it?" Darcy tilts her head, looking up at him, studying the way his face twists with a little smirk.

"Yeah."

"...Jubilee was the one you almost..."

"Yeah," Logan winces, nodding, looking down at his knees. "...She's as close as I'll probably ever get to a kid of my own," He admits, "Was real young when she moved into the school. And..." He swallows, "I almost killed her, a month ago."

"...I know you've probably heard it from just about everyone, hun, but," Darcy presses into his side, harder, "That wasn't your fault." He smirks again, eyes still warm as he blows a smoke ring.

"If you'd told me that an hour ago, I'd a'rolled my eyes." He chuckles, fingers gripping her shoulder. "...Jubes sayin' it, though. Kinda...made it sink in. A little," He frowns off toward the lake then, sighing, "I hope you never get to see what it looks like, darlin', when someone you love is scared t'death of you."

"...You were aware?" Her brows go up. She remembers the incident-part of his file very clearly. About how he'd been compromised on a mission. Mind-controlled, sent back to kill his friends, wipe out a small town. Professor X had saved him before he killed anyone, but he'd still left a wide trail of destruction behind him. Now, he's nodding, wincing again.

"I was a spectator in m'own head, yep." He sniffs, taking a long puff on his cigar. The hand gripping her shoulder is rubbing circles against her coat now, "Watchin' through windows as my body got sent t'kill innocent folks, and my friends."

"Damn," Darcy lets out a hiss, wrapping both arms around his waist, tight. They're being very...feelings-y. And close. And talking. And why isn't she freaking out more? Darcy is so used to being allergic when emotions start to happen. She isn't with him, though, and there are many reasons why. The superhero who's just like her, but unbreakable. The fact that she's not freaking out might start to freak her out, mind, if she thinks about it for too much. And so, like a pro, Darcy doesn't think about it too much, "I mean, getting mind-controlled kind of seems par for the course with super-people, I think half the folks in Stark Tower have been at some point...but more-so in the 'wake up to carnage you don't remember engaging in' way."

"Been there," Logan chuckles, "Naw this was...this was personal t'me, I think. Knew a lot about me, and goin' after Jubes first?" His eyes narrow, "Whoever th' asshole was, we only got his goons, he slipped our grasp. And he's out there, somewhere." Darcy nods, slowly, biting her lip.

"...So s'that why you really left?" She asks, quietly. He shrugs against her.

"That and...aw hell," He grumbles, but he's grinning a little, still, turning and kissing the top of her head, "Love the whole fuckin' annoyin' lot of 'em. But...'side from Marie, Jubes and Chuck, pretty sure they were all worried I'd lose m'head again. That'll grate on a man's nerves like hell."

"So, hate yourself for it, but also hate getting' looked at like you're something broken," Darcy snorts, "Damn, no wonder we get along so well, bub."

"Nah, s'the sex," Logan lets out a long, ragged breath, which mixes with the smoke of his cigar. There's snow starting to float around on the wind, too, the first Darcy's seen here, and she's pressing her face into his shirt, watching it fall and wisp and turn. "...You got me to talk," He notes quietly, the snark gone from his voice now. Darcy nods, slowly. "...I still aint ready t'go home."

"And I respect that more than ever, now," She replies honestly, sitting up to actually look at him, his hand sliding to rest on her back. A little smirk works it's way onto her full lips, meeting his eyes, warm and musing as they study her, "...I'm not either, though," She swallows, and Logan nods once, brushing thin flakes of snow from her hair.

"Good," He states, smirking, "T'quote you...let's get hammered."

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By now plenty of folks in town pretty much hate Wolverine, but in the best way, as the rumor around the small, bored mill is that Darcy is indeed the hot, much younger girlfriend who took the long trip up to the ass-end of nowhere to love the ol' boy up. Darcy knows she should probably be more offended by the he-man posturing that goes on at the bar. But frankly, years of pretty much just dating guys with no backbones has her -really- enjoying the possessive arm around her waist, tugging her flush to his side. The handful of drinks Logan gets bought for him are pretty nice too, because Darcy knows the amount of bar tabs on her SHIELD account has to be worrying Coulson by now.

"...So you got the sob story that sent -me- up here..." Logan starts, and she's been wondering how long it'd take him to poke her scabs right back. She gives him a grin though, head falling back in the lovely haze of a healthy buzz. She's wearing mostly her own clothes tonight, shocker. But the Smurfs tanktop under her sweater is totally Jane's, and made for Jane's chest. As she'd hoped, Logan gets distracted. But Darcy finds she doesn't much mind answering.

"...Actually, now that you've so -thoroughly- deflowered me," She hums around her beer, just loud enough to be heard over Johnny Cash and the Bingo night going on, and Logan grins wide, dipping his head and biting her ear lightly. Darcy laughs, shaking her head, "...Aint really that harsh, I mean in the face of what you've been through."

"Shit is shit," He shrugs, smoothly finishing off his second Guinness, "Be it world endin' or not."

"Poetical, baby," Darcy replies, thoughtful for a moment, before going on, "So, Jeremy is a lab monkey for SHIELD. Not in our department though, me and Jane's that is," She swirls her own beer in her glass a few times, smirking, "Super cute, in that gangly, geeky way. You know my MO by now, though. Little fun, little gropin' and makeouts, duck out before the feelings and fucking can happen," To that, he laughs, and Darcy's grin widens even as a sigh leaves her lips, "But man, even if there isn't sex, you just -really- shouldn't date people you work with."

"Generally no, but then again, seems like everyone at the Institute has knocked boots. And most of 'em when they were teenagers," Logan cringes, "...Take it shit got nasty?"

"I honestly thought I broke things off real mature, damaged as I am." Darcy sighs again, finishing her beer and motioning for another, "We had like, a month of movies and lunch dates in the caf. I even introduced him to Cap, cause he was a huge fanboy, and I'm kind of a big deal who teaches Captain America how to work a video game console. But then Jer started to get that LOOK and I was all, oh boy, so I said flat out that I wasn't looking for anything serious, so let's just back off while it's still just a fun time, blah blah blah..."

"Excellent in theory," Logan says, "Application 'aint never smooth, though."

"You're not kidding, good-lookin'," Darcy reaches up, rubbing her eyes, "Geek guys are usually great. But some can also be entitled, pettier than the bitchiest mean girl you've met in your life, emotionally stunted, and social failures. Broke up on a Friday. By the following Monday, it was all over the Tower that I was screwing Nick Fury, or maybe Agent Coulson, yanno, to get my job, and almost certainly Steve Rogers," She growls, "I can laugh off the first two, sure. Call me useless, I'll prove you wrong just by bein'. And t'think Fury'd want a piece of this? Flattering as hell. But Steve, Steve is kind of my friend, whom I taught to play Legend of Zelda. And along with being a hero, he's the nicest dude ever, and dating the sweetest little all-American waitress ever. Guess which rumor was juicy enough to make it to the tabloids?"

"Aw fuck," Logan winces, tugging her close again, as she groans.

"'Captain America's Secret Affair With Office Tart' was great. I kinda liked being called a tart. The really bad picture of me leaving the tower in a junky hoodie, on a day without makeup, completed my personal hell." She notes bitterly. "...So yeah, after a couple weeks of that not blowing over, I kind of did jump at the chance to fly to the middle of nowhere. I haven't even been on all my internet haunts in weeks, just emailin' work." Darcy shakes her head again, as a comforting hand slides up into her hair. She shuts her eyes, leaning back, enjoying the touch.

"Darlin', tha'd make the hardest of hardasses go runnin'," He assures her, bending to kiss the top of her head, "I mean it. And when you do walk back into that place, you'll be hotter'n hell and holdin' your head high, I don't doubt it." Darcy actually smiles again at that, tucking her face into his side.

"I will, too. Not gonna let this ruin the best life opportunity a gal could ever ask for," She reaches for her fresh beer, downing half of it in one go, to Logan's low whistle. "...I don't feel so bad putting it off, though. S'like I can finally breath again, up here, and the air's so much tastier."

"And th' company aint bad either," Logan notes, to which Darcy hums her approval, low and pleased.

"Not at all. Let's dance, good lookin'," She murmurs, as Ryan Adams starts crooning, stepping back and taking his hand, tugging him toward her. He's nowhere near as reluctant as he was a week ago, though he still doesn't do much more than shuffle his feet, his rough hands on her jeans. He likes to watch her though, the way she seems to feel music in her bones, her blood, shutting her eyes and letting it move her. Darcy knows that it's music that makes her shuck off the bad things, if only for four minutes at a time, and he likes watching the process.

Especially now, when he knows at least one small thing on her shopping list of damage. Darcy does feel rather exposed now, but for once, she finds that she doesn't mind. They're friends and she trusts him, knows he understands. At least, she tells herself that they're just friends. That night though, when he walks her to her room and they find themselves, unsurprisingly, getting tangled up in her bed, it's actually sweeter. It's a word she'd have never thought to pair with the man, but it is. His hands and lips are all over her curves, his voice low and close in her ear as they move.

It's intimate, and while he'd made her scream, fucking her up against a wall, this has her crashing through a whole new level, arching up off the bed, her arms and legs wrapping around him like a vice. She should be worried. She should be putting up every wall she's got, because this will never be a Thing, it can't, right? But Darcy doesn't go to her usual safeguards at all, and she can hardly blame it on four measly beers. They clutch close for a while after, kissing long and slow and with hands ghosting over raw nerves.

Logan never spends the night with her, for practical reasons. He's told her that he tends to get pretty vivid, violent nightmares, and certain people have the scars to prove it. She does note, though, that tonight, he stays until she falls asleep, with her head on his chest, big steady arms keeping her warm and safe.

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	7. Chapter 7

((I don't really project this much into my original work, but sometimes it can be nice to drain the juicy blisters on my soul in the playground of possibilities that is fanfic. Mmmm, bask in my delicious visuals! Points if you spot the Futurama reference.))

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Chapter 7

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"Coulson, who was your first love?"

"...That is hardly relevant, Agent Lewis."

"Maybe not, but this assignment doesn't exactly fall within professional perimeters either," Darcy reminds him, cutting up strawberries for her morning yogurt. Her suit-wearing boss (she really needs a new nick-name for the guy) sighs, making her grin. "Seriously, we both know that it's more favor than official business. Even if my capabilities as an Agent -are- being judged."

"Granted." Silence for a few moments. And then, "Janet Williams, junior year of high-school. Ginger, she pulled off a side-ponytail like no other girl could." Darcy smiles around her cell phone, stirring her Greek yogurt-and-berries with a pleased hum.

"See, Boss Man? We're closer already." She notes brightly. The thoughtful silence on the other end of the line both unnerves and intrigues her.

"...Ms. Lewis, so you're aware, your return to Manhattan is quite anticipated by your peers and coworkers." He says this mildly, but Darcy understands his meaning very well. She bites her lip, staring at the cheap coffee maker as it brews her something dark and adequate, if nothing else. "The incident of last month was seen as highly unprofessional behavior, but not on your part. Mr. Anders has been reprimanded and reassigned." She blinks.

"...Really?"

"Is it so very strange, to think that SHIELD would take into consideration the character references provided by not only Jane Foster, but Captain Rogers and Erik Selvig as well, and deem you quite outside of the wrong in this matter? Aside from the little issue of inter-office dating?"

"...People don't generally think the best of me, like ever, Boss Man."

"Well, SHIELD does," Phil replies crisply, though Darcy can hear the faint smile in his voice. "...And one look at Director Fury's face would inform the world that the man is most certainly not getting laid."

Darcy snorts her coffee, laughing.

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It's somewhere around Alaska's untimely, late-night summer twilight, when Wolverine looks out the windows, grinning. There's an unearthly light being cast all over the walls, Darcy notes, tangled up in the sheets, her eyes on the violet colors dancing over the motel ceiling. "Aurora Borealis," Logan murmurs, looking back at her in her less-than-clothed state, biting his lip. "'Bout time I took you on a proper date, gorgeous." He states, and Darcy laughs.

"Yeah? Better than the diner? Wolvie, you spoil me so..."

Fifteen minutes later finds them walking into the woods, Darcy bundled up against the late-night cold, Logan looking quite comfortable with the chill in his leather jacket. Darcy's laugh echoes through the trees, looking up through the disrobing branches at the watercolor wash of colors swimming across the otherwise clear, starry sky, all greens and violets and pinks. Holding her small hand tight, Logan tugs her along old hunting paths around the lake and into the deeper woods, in the space of wilderness between the mill and the National Park. There's an old deer stand in the trees after a while, and it's up into this tree-house-like structure that Logan climbs with ease, helping her up with an agile hand.

Darcy isn't a stranger to this, her grandpa having been a bit of a hunter himself, in contrast to her mother's vegan sensibilities, and she finds herself telling Logan as much, as they sit watching the light show, his arm around her. "Called me his good luck charm," She smirks, pressing her chin into her scarf, "Liked having me with him as he sat in the woods, waiting, and I was good and quiet."

"That's surprisin'," Logan observes wryly, and earns himself an elbow to his side. Darcy grins.

"I liked watching the process," She says, honestly, "Mum was against it, but only cause she's against animals dying for people, period. But if you're gonna eat meat, gramps would always tell her, there's nothing more fair, more natural than man against beast, in said beast's natural habitat." She smiles at the memory, "God, you should have seen how he'd go off on douches at the gas station, going into the woods with beer coolers, fancy scopes and the like. Man was morally offended. 'Ye shoot true, sober, an' with yer own damn eyes!' he'd rant."

"...Irish?" Logan lofts a brow at her dead-on impression of the man, and she laughs, nodding.

"Irish, old school, and made of iron," She sighs, squinting up into the sky, "His family settled in Montana, originally, when they immigrated. Couldn't stand American cities."

"Spent a lot of time in places like this myself, when I first woke up in the world," Logan tells her, quietly, tugging her into his lap. Darcy happily readjusts herself, "S'easy to blend into a new place, adapt, when all that matters is hard work and keepin' your head low," He smirks, "I could win fights, hunt when things got lean, and pay cash wherever I ended up. S'not a bad life, just a lonely one."

"And a simple one? Comfortable?" Darcy hears herself asking, and Wolverine nods, slowly.

"Gettin' t'know me too well, Gypsy," He murmurs, contentedly, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, nosing her scarf out of the way, "Made sense, though. 'Til Rogue wandered into my life, made me aware I could do more. Old life mightn't have been good or noble or any of that shit. But it was simple and it made sense."

"Gramps' life philosophy," Darcy murmurs, feeling a sudden prickling in her eyes, blinking up at the sky. Logan must have picked up on the wandering end of her statement.

"...How'd he die?"

Darcy looks down at her lap, shuddering a little. His arms tighten around her, and her blue eyes flash back up at the sky, her teeth digging into her bottom lip, "...He found out he had Alzheimer's when I was in high-school," She rasps, dragging a gloved hand across her eyes, "...By the time I was a senior, and his doctor had finally gotten it through his head that he wasn't gonna get better, was gonna fade away, he," She shuts her eyes tight, shaking her head, "...He took his hunting rifle out and swallowed a round. I found him."

"Shit," Logan's arms are like a steady hum around her, his blood and his breath and the air in her own lungs filling her ears. "I'm sorry, darlin'..."

"He was the only man I've ever loved," She admits, flatly, eyes on the sky, "He was home, he was iron, for all the places mom and I rambled, he followed and settled there for the school year, to be there for me in every new place. I think...I think he kinda figured mom would always be a flighty, rolling stone, but he saw the potential for something more in me, and protected it." Darcy swallows, shutting her eyes tightly, "And then he gave up. He ended it. He left us."

"...Think about what he was facin' though, darlin," Logan's voice, oddly both rough and quiet reaches her, under the stars, lights, and swaying, crackling leaves. The wind was picking up, smelling like the cold, coating the inside of her nose, "Strong man like him, facing the thought of his mind not bein' his own. Out of his control..."

"Oh I know," Darcy's voice cracks, despite herself, "He saw his end, said 'fuck you', and took his own road out," She takes a deep breath, "I respect that. Mom hates that I do, but I do, mad as I am at him too," She shakes her head, "It was something he couldn't stop, something intent on ending him. How the fuck else does some soft, vulnerable human face that? Cause he was tough..but he wasn't iron, in the end. He wasn't this immortal man from my childhood. He was flesh. Like all of us...most of us," She corrects, coughing over a laugh, water swimming in her eyes, "Being mortal sucks, dude. It means broken bones, torn flesh, it means disease, it means decay. Fuck being human, seriously..."

"Don't ever think that," Logan says, sharply, arms crossing over her, holding her close, his chin on her shoulder, scruffy cheek brushing her soft one. Darcy shakes her head.

"How can I not?" She swallows, "Look where I live, look where -you- live..."

"And as I remember, Tony Stark's all human," Logan reminds her, "With a fuckin' battery in his chest, sure. But The Black Widow doesn't have that, does she?" Darcy bites her lip, shaking her head slowly. "And yeah I come by a lot of what I got naturally. But we all know why I was likely grafted with metal. Why Rogers got pumped fulla hero 'roids," Darcy can't help a little laugh at that, drying her eyes again. "...So they could toss us at the things that -can- hurt us, darlin'. Y'know what happens when yer 'special'? Y'get hit by th' special bad guys. And you know at least one person that aint a mutant, or a super soldier, or runnin' on batteries, who tosses herself at 'em all the same."

"Point," Darcy shuts her eyes for a moment, sighing, "...So you're saying that getting attached to adamantium mutants and superheroes is just as dumb as letting in the tissue-paper-thin regular folks?" Logan snorts, shaking her a little, gently.

"M'the last person t'be tellin' you how to let people in," He grumbles, good natured, reaching around to tilt her chin up again, sending her gaze up to the pulsing colors in the sky once more. "I'm just sayin' words that might be truthsome, if you stick 'em together the right way."

"Fair," Darcy sighs, suddenly feeling as if she's gone ten rounds with Mighty Thor, going a little limp against the steady warmth behind her. She feels raw, almost in her actual skin, more exposed than she's ever been, but it isn't so bad, not really. Not nearly as bad as she'd thought it would be, anyway, with him near her. That was something valuable, she was coming to realize, whatever it was they were actually doing, whatever they actually were to each other now. The two of them are quiet for a space, watching the sky, until Logan speaks again, quietly.

"Followed those lights clear across Canada, and up t'this very spot, some years back," He tells her, his breath warm in her hair. "Then kept right on goin'. Left the bike, hiked across ice and snow, 'til I could watch the lights over the Chukchi sea." The image he conjures is vivid and beautiful, and has Darcy's lips turning upwards again, at least a little bit.

"That's a sight I wouldn't mind seeing," She hums, feeling him grin behind her.

"I'll take you sometime," Wolverine says, easily, and Darcy swallows, gnawing her lip. But he just chuckles. "Us gypsies need company, darlin'. Been known t'take off without warnin' when things -aint- a mess. So, if you ever get an itch t'see somewhere, and nothin's bothering the Earth..."

"...I'll call up Westchester," She murmurs, grinning, settling back into his arms again. And the colors in the sky swirled on.

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It was strange how Darcy kind of felt hungover the next morning, even though she hadn't had a single drink, for once. There had been a lot of venting of the spleen, however, and she wondered if it was possible to get emotion-drunk, her head heavy and her mouth dry, her limbs aching as she stretched and rose from her wreck of a bed. Well, she thinks, maybe that last bit of discomfort could be explained away in less ethereal terms, looking around at the clothes strewn all over the room, the broken chair in the corner...SHIELD could pay for that, she mused, grinning.

In the shower, however, there's something free and fluttering in her chest, a lightness, at least in this small little space of her world. Someone knows what's inside of her messed up cranium, and it's someone she trusts. Darcy keeps so much close to her chest back in the real world, in fact Coulson once told her that her poker face was almost as good as his, just in a different flavor. The flavor of letting surface things bubble there, with her wry humor and deceptively chill nature, while the deeper things swim low and safe in her soul. She wonders if he'd call letting her target know all those weak spots unprofessional. But Wolverine wasn't a standard target.

Noting that almost all of her clothes need washing by now when she exits the bathroom, Darcy cheerfully opts to take the path of the lazy, and just buy and/or borrow more. The General Store has a couple of second-hand racks in the back, and Darcy has been itching to get her hands on the wonderfully dated, dusty wares from folks long-removed from fashionable society. She isn't disappointed, scoring an armful of things for under ten dollars. When her cell rings at lunch, Darcy is resplendent as a 90s throw-back, in a long mint dress with brown flowers, her hiking boots, and one of Logan's brown flannel shirts worn like a jacket, her hair long and loose behind her.

"Hey Boss Man," She smirks into the phone, wandering along the pebbly bank of the lake, half-eaten apple in hand. "Before you say anything, yes, there's uh...gonna be some compensation paid to the motel, on my expense report."

"Not my concern at the moment," Coulson's voice is back to being all business, a far cry from yesterday, and Darcy stands a little straighter, tossing her apple into the trees. "Xavier's Institute has informed SHIELD of fresh recon, on the threat who compromised Wolverine. We've reason to believe your location is no longer secure, Agent Lewis." Darcy swallows, free hand slipping into her dress pocket, where she'd tucked her ever-present pepper spray.

"What are my orders, Sir?" She asks, crisp and low, eyes darting all over her surroundings. This little place, tucked into mountains and forests, had become such a cozy haven in her mind over the past nine days, a vault for good memories. Suddenly though, she felt exposed and very, very squishy. Darcy kind of resents whoever this bad guy is, who was making her perception of Halfmast shift. This is why we can't have nice things, she muses.

"Logan is being informed. The two of you should return to secure ground."

"Informed..." Darcy can't help but smirk, even as her heavy boots were taking her swiftly toward the path that would return her to their digs. "You -have- had eyes on the ground this whole time, haven't you, Boss Man?" She doesn't think she's imagining the slight smile in Coulson's voice when he replies.

"No SHIELD Agent is ever truly alone, Miss Lewis."

"That should creep me out, I think, but really, right now, I'm just fuckin' relie-..." Darcy admits, right before a massive, burning blast of light strikes her from somewhere across the lake, knocking her to the ground.

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	8. Chapter 8

((This one may feel short and abrupt, but so are the events contained within, so it works! And I swear, a certain mutant has so many different story-lines, clones, AUs and such, that trying to conjure the right blend for his movie-verse persona is headache-inducing. But this is Darcy's POV anyway, so I realized I really only had to establish so much. Anywho! There's one more after this one, never fear.))

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Chapter 8

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"Son of a -bitch-!" Darcy swears, coughing, rolling over as quickly as she can, facing the direction the blazing energy came from. The scent of her slightly singed hair reaches her nose, but otherwise she doesn't seem burnt, and doesn't see anyone or anything out of the ordinary across the lake, or in the woods. Pushing herself up from the ground with a wince, Darcy gets a few steps further down the path before another blast hits her from the opposite direction, knocking her flat on her back, her breath knocked out of her lungs. Her first thought is of how she's going to yell at Coulson, for not clearing her to carry a weapon. Seriously, her aim wasn't -that- bad...

Something large and heavy drops from the trees, landing right next to her head. As she struggles to pull in a breath, Darcy's eyes dart to the side, registering a heavy pair of steel-toed boots, right before a huge hand wraps around her neck, yanking her up off her feet to dangle in the air. She's faced with...well, where Logan is a little bit feral, this guy might have just left the zoo, sandy brown hair falling in front of a cruel, scarred face, which is splitting in a slow, pointy grin.

"You've got his stink aaaaall over you," He manages to both drawl and growl at once, and Darcy is pretty sure she's turning blue, one of her hands pawing uselessly at the clawed mitt holding her lungs captive. Dimly, she's aware of a slight, golden figure flickering into view just over his shoulder, a girl, her hair pulled back tight, her eyes a matte black. "Too bad y'can't scream. Would git 'im t'come runnin', I bet." And as he speaks, the girl looks Darcy in the eye, right before a blinding pain explodes in her mind, the burning sensation from before now inside of her head. The fucker is laughing though, and frankly, that pisses her off.

"...Your breath...stinks..." She manages to rasp, lifting the hand still clutching her tiny bottle of pepper-spray, and spraying the guy point-blank in the face.

He drops her, roaring, and the pain in her mind abruptly cuts off as the girl reaches for him, momentarily distracted. Darcy knows she's only got seconds though, and wastes none of them, tearing into the woods, already hearing those heavy feet behind her. He's snarling now, she's pissed him off and if he catches her again, it won't be pretty.

The town's in view through the trees, but it's not close enough, and he's much, much faster, for all that terror is lending her speed. Darcy's legs are pumping and her lungs are straining, and she knows she won't make it but she keeps going anyway, because she'll be damned if she dies giving up. Blessedly, all of a sudden, the motel isn't the only thing in her view, and she lets out a gasp of relief, dropping abruptly to the forest floor as Wolverine leaps to meet her pursuer mid-air, claws out.

Darcy rolls out of their clawing, snarling path of destruction, scrambling up and backing toward the path through the trees. She knows she should probably be running right about now, and there's a pain in her windpipe that can't be good, she'll probably have some gnarly bruises on her neck tomorrow. But she just can't tear her eyes away from the two mutants, so similar in their attacks, in their animal rage, tearing into each other. That's probably how the freaky teenage gymnast this jerk's got following him is able to sneak up on her, blasting Darcy to her knees with a sharp cry.

"Darcy!" She hears Logan shout, as he's spotting her out of the corner of his eye. The giant dude has him well-engaged, however, using the moment of distraction to toss Wolverine into a tree. Logan's up in an instant, and the two are having at it again.

The pain in her head is unbearable at first, burning the inside of her skull, and all Darcy wants to do is curl up on the forest floor until it's all over. And then it begins to sooth, like a balm, and she accepts it gratefully...until she starts to notice that her own thoughts, her willpower, is bleeding out of her head along with the pain, and Darcy suddenly realizes that this must be what happened to Logan. Caught unaware, burned from the inside out, and then made into a pliant prisoner in his own head. Darcy -is- aware though, and isn't going to let it happen to her. Not without a fight, anyway.

"No..." She means to growl, but it comes out weak and pathetic to her own ears. Still, Darcy fights it. The more she does, the more the pain comes back, alongside her self-possession, burning and searing the nerves behind her eyes, but she keeps fighting, writhing on the ground, nails digging into her palms. The girl standing over her begins to grit her teeth with the effort of attacking, her black eyes flashing. Darcy finds herself mustering just enough willpower to glare right back even as her body twists in pain, cursing the bitch out with her eyes.

And then it stops. A boot to the head, and the girl's falling over, like a limp rag-doll on the ground. There are now black suits moving around in Darcy's periphery, and Black Widow herself kneeling over her, checking Darcy's pulse. "You're secure, you're all right," The spy says calmly, resting a hand on her shoulder, "Agent Lewis? Can you move?"

"Yeah, just...slowly..." She rolls over, just in time to see the burly dude who's been engaging Logan draw back, panting. Seeing his partner out cold on the ground, three SHIELD agents with guns trained on him, The Black Widow, and an even more pissed-off Wolverine, he apparently decides not to test his odds...not yet, anyway. The snarl he sends Logan is something steeped in rage and downright bitterness, just before launching himself into the trees. Wolverine takes a few steps forward, as if meaning to follow, before changing his mind, snorting, retracting his claws with a sharp 'snikt'.

"All right, darlin'?" He murmurs, moving back to Darcy and picking her up, effortlessly, and Darcy totally doesn't have any shame in going boneless in his arms. Natasha steps back politely.

"Killer headache," Darcy groans, resting her head against his chest, hearing his heavy breathing and the frantic, booming heartbeat underneath. "...Natasha when the hell did you get up here?"

"I've been here for ten days," Black Widow smirks, hauling up the teenager she's knocked out none too gently, while one of the agents with her steps forward, strapping some kind of metal helmet onto the girl's head, and Natasha cuffs her. It's then that Darcy notes her clothes...Natasha is actually wearing jeans, a henley, and her hair is a -mess-...hat-hair, Darcy surmises, for she knows it well, being a knit hat enthusiast. Her face is also an uneven color...as if she's had some kind of self-tanner or dark makeup on, and then wiped it off. "I've been undercover, at the mill. So have these lot." Sure enough, despite their suits, the agents carting away the unconscious girl all have much scruffier scalps and facial hair than the standard SHIELD agent. Darcy thinks she even remembers seeing one of them at the bar.

"...If you tell me she was just bait..." Logan starts, and Darcy feels the fresh anger brewing in his frame, and frankly, doesn't really blame him. If her head weren't killing her, she'd have more than a few pointed, indignant questions as well. But Widow just holds up a hand to stop him before he can go on, expression like stone.

"Not hardly," She says firmly, looking Wolverine in the eye. It's then Darcy notes the blood on his shirt, the claw marks all over him, that are healing over even as she watches, her fingers tracing his skin soothingly. "In fact it was thought a blatant contingent of agents arm-wrestling you into coming home would be far more tempting to someone like Sabretooth, like an open challenge. Which is why SHIELD acquiesced Rogue's request so readily, it was thought to be much more subtle to anyone on the outside." She moves back toward town, and somewhat sated by her concerned eye for Darcy, Logan follows.

"We were only here to keep an eye on a green agent. The chances of things going to shit seemed very slim, but we have a standard we stick to," Natasha smirks, as she echoes Coulson's words, "'No agent is ever truly alone'. Come'on, we're on orders to regroup and draw him out to even ground, now that he's down his telepath."

"Not here," Logan says firmly, "Not with her."

"Hey..." Darcy starts, and then sighs dramatically, "...No, wait, even -my- energy to put up some fierce, indignant lady-rage is gone," She gulps, just managing to cracks jokes, being carried back to the motel. Now that it's over, quick as it began, her nerves start twitching, a shudder moving through her, "Lock me up somewhere safe to curl up and hide for a while."

"You did wonderfully," Widow maintains, evenly, "I saw you fighting it, and I saw the pepper spray on his face. Something tells me your debrief with Coulson will be very telling of your firm desire to live," She smirks.

"...Well, fuck yeah, obviously. Life rocks."

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It goes without saying that this is not how Darcy had planned to leave the town of Halfmast. Not that she was really sure if she'd had any plan for when she would, other than perhaps drifting back toward New York slowly. Hell, maybe she'd have even gotten home on the back of Logan's bike, he'd hinted at it plenty in the last couple of days, and more time with him...well, at least it was something she could admit that she wanted, deep in her bones. But now Darcy finds herself being swiftly spirited off, and life-threatening bad guys with grudges or not, it feels way too soon.

Still, she's not stupid, she knows she's not equipped for this level of mission, yet. With her equilibrium and steel nerves slowly returning, Darcy goes through her room like a whirlwind, gathering up her clothes and her laptop. It doesn't take much time, the mess left behind can be Black Widow's problem. She debates giving Logan back his shirt...but only for about half a minute.

"We've swept the area," Natasha tells her when she comes back outside, suitcase in hand. The spy has somehow already changed back into her standard black SHIELD uniform, her hair and clear skin in their normal state of poise. She hands Darcy back her cell phone, unscathed from her run-in with Victor Creed. "Coulson was happy to hear you're all right. There's a chopper a couple miles out of town, waiting to bring you to a secure airstrip," She smirks, nodding behind her, "I believe someone wants to give you a ride to the spot himself."

Darcy catches Logan's eye, where he's standing by his bike, and something tightens in her chest a little as she smiles back, "Awesome...um," She bites her lip, looking back at Natasha warily, "...Exactly -how- close were you watching me?" The spy just pats her shoulder.

"I wasn't peeping through your windows, don't worry. Though..." She cocks a brow, "Only one furniture fatality? Please, Lewis, up your game. Clint and I have destroyed whole rooms on assignment, much to Coulson's chagrin. I'll see you back in New York."

And with that visual putting both a blush and a grin on her face, Darcy makes her way toward Logan. He takes her suitcase easily, strapping it to the back of his bike and plucking up his helmet, dropping it firmly on her head. She smirks, doing up the buckle under her chin herself, "Shouldn't you be wearing one too, good-lookin'?"

"Nope," He shrugs, grinning, though there's still a little unease around his eyes...and he doesn't much look like he's keen on her leaving, any more than she is on going. There's that tightness again...but Darcy shakes it off, for now, hiking up her dress and climbing on behind him, arms wrapping firmly around his waist. Maybe she holds on just a little too tight, her face pressed against his leather jacket, inhaling him, eyes on the town as they roar away from it. A tiny little place that would mostly be a winter's ghost town in a couple of months. She'd miss it. Logan seems to be sharing the sentiment, as they roll off.

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The black, featureless chopper is waiting at the end of an old logging road off of the highway. An agent is waiting, eyes on the mountains, the woods, the road, in that alert yet stoic way that Darcy has come to associate with SHIELD agents with a specific target. His eyes were out for the tall, solid mutant who'd given her a bruised neck, and whom Logan would no doubt be engaging shortly. At that notion, Darcy bites her lip hard as she slides off the bike, trading him his helmet for her suitcase.

"...This isn't how I planned on going," She says close to his ear, when he lifts her up into his arms for a hug, attentive agents be damned. Logan buries a hand in her hair, his scruffy jaw brushing against her skin, making her eyes flutter shut as he breathes her in deep.

"Was at least gonna give you one more good tumble," He grins, but she hears the edge in his voice, concern and alarm and that low, possessive growl as the arm around her waist holds her tighter, as if he'd never let her out of his sight, if he had his way. And then, "...You'll be just fine too, goin' back to the city. Don't let anyone get to you."

"Gettin' to know me too well, Gypsy," She sends back to him, her voice low, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him, long and slow and building, like their kisses always do, until a throat clears loudly behind them. Darcy growls into his mouth before pulling back, letting him set her down, big hands lingering at her hips, "Be careful...and give 'im hell, Wolvie," She winks, and he straightens his shirt on her chest as she plucks up her suitcase, backing away reluctantly, out of his grasp.

"See you 'round sometime, darlin'," Logan says easily, but his eyes linger on her, as hers do on him, something on the tip of her tongue, wanting to be said. But they both know she can't say it. Not yet, not with life having tossed a violent curve-ball, throwing them both off balance. So instead Darcy just gives him a slow, easy grin, drinking in the sight of him watching her, until she's climbing into the chopper, and lifting up into the sky.

She watches the mountains fall away below her, her stomach churning with way too many things. Worry for Logan and Natasha, being still a little shaken by her brush with death, and yes, an ache in her chest because no, no she didn't want her time with him to end so soon, so abruptly. But at least, Darcy thinks, wrapping her arms around herself, the thought of going back to New York isn't giving her any of the old anxiety, whatsoever. That, she can tackle. Darcy knows she owes a lot to the snarky bastard she's leaving behind, and finds herself hoping, with all she's got, that his own battle goes as well.

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	9. Chapter 9

((To NYC, everything else in New York counts as 'upstate'. Thank you so much for all the love this has gotten, I truly hope you all enjoy this bit of epilogue :D As for me, I've got a long weekend of relaxin' the brain to look forward to, wewt.))

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Chapter 9

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"I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean. And the moon tonight: there's a circle around it - a sign of trouble not far behind. I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night wanting, but still sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing, I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen. I don't know. Maybe I've had my happiness. I don't want to believe it, but there is no man… Only that moon."

~ Sally Owens, Practical Magic

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Darcy returns to her apartment in Queens hours later, fairly certain someone from SHIELD is still watching her even as the black SUV disappears into traffic again. She finds herself not really minding all that much, if they are. In fact, it's weirdly comforting in a paranoid, bizarre way. She unlocks her place, pleased to see her cat has been fed, by some office underling no doubt, curling around her ankles happily. "Tellin' you Arkham, you should have gone with mom," She murmurs, bending to scruff the soft calico head, "Thailand would have been way more fun than living with me."

She showers, wraps herself up in clean clothes (noting, somewhat sadly, that her boxes of winter clothes have arrived from both New Mexico and her mom's place in San Francisco, meaning she'll have to return cozy, borrowed things), and then she tries to sleep. While being back in her own bed is nice, a week and a half off in the wilderness already has Darcy unused to the sounds of the city drifting up from the street, and paired with her worry over certain people on assignment up north, it's a while before slumber comes.

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For her first day back at work, Darcy puts on her big girl panties. And her big girl suit and big girl heels, because fuck all, not only does she have an official debriefing on her very first (sort-of) mission, she's got office rumors to stomp all over, proudly and boldly. Pointy heels would be key. She brings along a bulging duffle bag too, which, upon opened at the security checkpoint at Stark Tower, proves to contain only a smattering of clothes belonging to various Avengers.

"Agent Romanoff sent me her assessment of your performance," Phil Coulson tells her in his office that morning, hands folded in front of him, atop his desk. "Some might call your technique highly unprofessional," He smirks, "But as this was not exactly an official assignment, and as you not only accomplished your goal, but also drew out an elusive threat, I don't think you'll find anyone complaining." Darcy frowns a little at that, though, shaking her head.

"Most of that was by accident, cause..." She hedges for a moment, "...I really did...I mean, it wasn't just that I was trying to get him to...I'm not a slut..." Phil holds up a hand.

"Agent Lewis, you know you don't have to explain, Agent Romanoff tells me -many- things," He looks at her steadily for a moment, that mild expression unchanging, save for a knowing glint in his eye. "And no, not all of it was by accident. What you've written up about the attack," He slides the neatly typed report she'd finished last night back toward him, eyes skimming over the contents, "For someone with field experience that is barely above the average civilian, you conducted yourself marvelously. I'm recommending you for official SHIELD combat training," He downright smiles at her surprised expression, "Your clearance will be updated, show up at the gym starting tomorrow. Good work, Agent."

"...Thank you, sir...ah," She clears her throat, "...Any news from Alaska yet? Or is that classified?"

"You're officially involved, so no it is not," Coulson nods once, "I will let you know when we know something new."

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Confidence, and a bewildering excitement is tempering her anxiety about what might be happening with Logan, as she leaves her boss' office, intent on going to the labs and her familiar work with Jane. Someone's waiting for her in the hall though, leaning back against the wall and greeting her with a big grin. "I see you returned my sweaters," Steve remarks, and Darcy chuckles, grinning back at him.

"Heya buddy. Yeah, they served me well too, sorry if you missed 'em..." She wants to give the big guy a proper hug, but maintains her friendly distance, not exactly sure where things stand between them just now. Cap saves her the trouble, stepping forward and wrapping her up in a quick, but firm embrace himself.

"And I missed my Mario Karts instructor," He tells her easily, hands in his pockets as he walks with her toward the labs. If there's a few catty stares or whispering, it doesn't happen within Darcy's field of vision. She wonders if Fury really did send down an official memo, edged in deadly threat, like Coulson had hinted. "Tony gets bossy."

"And how's the lady?" Darcy grins, amused at the way he still turns a little red around the ears at the mention of his girlfriend.

"Good! Socked a guy on the subway for talking trash about you, over one of those gossip rags," He tells her, proudly, and Darcy snorts, laughing. "Meg's a pistol."

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Two steps into the labs and Jane has her in yet another hug, this one tight and relieved and clingy, "Oh god, I heard the news. I'm so glad you're all right," The scientist breathes, stepping back and looking her over. "...And you're in a -suit-, holy crap."

"Thanks mom," Darcy smirks, "I thought I'd return to work on a strong note of 'fuck you' to the haters."

"Love it... -Are- you all right?" Jane's sharp gaze falls on her face, and hey, Darcy can't really lie to the woman, giving her a half-grin.

"Didn't really leave the way I wanted to, I'm concerned for the safety of the sexy man I was sleeping with, the only man I've -ever- slept with in fact, and I almost got disemboweled by Victor Creed, which has me like, musing on my own mortality and all that. But I'm dealing!" She says it brightly, but honestly, and Jane seems appeased, giving her another hug. The girls have somewhat forgotten Steve, though, who is still standing in the doorway, forehead creasing in concern.

"...You slept with..." He coughs, coloring a bit, making vague gestures with his hands. "...I mean, I knew the man in the war, he was a little...do I need to. Um..." Darcy grins, shaking her head.

"My honor is well in hand, Rogers, never fear."

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It's another day or two before Coulson informs Darcy that Black Widow and Wolverine have Victor Creed in custody, and another day after that when Marie calls Darcy up herself and tells her that Logan's fine, but grumpy, holed up in bed for a couple of days. Natasha sweeps back into SHIELD headquarters soon after, looking no worse for wear and happy to see her fox fur hat back in her possession. That particular knot loosens in Darcy's gut, relief in her nerves. And then...she's not quite sure what she's supposed to do with what's left. She does go out to the nearest Halmark Store, buys the cheesiest, dumbest get-well card she can find, and sends it to Wolverine with a cheeky note. Because -that's- romantic, she thinks, annoyed with her own neurosis.

Her days ease into a new routine, one where she's up early every morning, spending three hours training with various other agents, and the occasional bored Avenger. Darcy had never been especially enthused by the prospect of working out in the past, but recent experiences have changed up her mindset completely. She's been so used to spending her life worrying about how paper-thin other people were, it hardly occurred to her that hey, so was she, relatively speaking. She might not be amazing at first, but she throws herself into training with gusto. Life is short, and she's been given an incredible job, with incredible people, and she'd like to be around a while to enjoy them.

Steve starts teaching her to box, alongside his girlfriend, even though Darcy's pretty sure he's pulling more punches with Meg, which is understandable. But if he's so concerned with her safety, it's a good thing she's observing him being a little more free with an actual SHIELD agent. Darcy knows he's going easy on her as well, but then, he's gotten to hear her brag about pepper spraying a mutant three times her size. Sure, Darcy might have exaggerated a little, but it was in the interest of getting Captain America comfortable enough to actually land a punch now and then. She learns quite a lot about fighting in the weeks following her return, including the quick and dirty shit that had served Steve well in back alleys, before the serum.

When she is in the labs with Jane, Darcy finds herself poised as a mother hen, of all things, training their new army of interns. With the physicist, billionaire, and sometimes-Hulk all sharing a lab space, there's a lot of eccentricity (Jane), diva behavior (Tony) and personal space issues (Bruce) to cover, no matter how many floors of research and development there are between the three of them, and Darcy is kind of already an expert at herding these particular cats.

"It's a mixture of letting things roll of off your back, making sure they stop and eat, hurling insults, and getting the practical shit done," She tells the cluster of lab monkeys, who are all around her age, but look so much younger, due to being star-struck over actually being allowed to work with The Avengers. And because Darcy's actually wearing more office-wear to work these days, while they're still in the starving college student phase, "If Jane gives you numbers to crunch, you crunch, even if she forgets she gave 'em to you an hour later. Dr. Banner is not going to snap at the drop of a hat, don't act like he is, that's fuckin' rude. If Mr. Stark brings booze down to the labs, you confiscate it and bring it straight to Miss Potts' office. Nothing good comes of drunk science, I -promise- you. Anything else, come to me."

So all in all, as September goes along, Darcy's life is in quite a good place. And yet, she finds herself retreating from the noise of the city as much as she can, where once she'd been all about the bustle and the colors and the crowd, when she'd first arrived. She loves her job, and being able to take three steps out of her building to find a quality felafel is pretty nice. But more often than not her free time takes her to the park, or even to Coney Island, squinting into the trees or out onto the sea, pretending the buildings and the people and the noise were far from her ears.

With a playlist on her iPod that echoes the scant library of songs from a certain jukebox in a certain diner in Alaska, her mind drifts further afield as Autumn settles in. Her bed becomes too big the chillier New York gets, and the night sky is woefully lacking in both color and stars. Logan hasn't contacted her, but Darcy knows why, knows it has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with her. He got to know her very well, and with the insight of a man who's been around a few times. She's the flighty one in this equation, the one who only lets a guy come so close, and while he's been closer than all the rest, Logan isn't assuming. The next move is still hers, if she moves at all.

It's when she turns down the third night out for drinks with the team that Jane finally takes action, fixing her assistant with a sharp look as Darcy dips her head back over her files. The physicist's eyes narrow for a time, and then she schools her face back into an easy indifference, shrugging, "Fine, though you're missing an entertaining time, Thor drunk in public..." Jane rubs her chin for a few moments, and Darcy can just about smell her plotting. "...You know, you haven't had a day off all month." That does have Darcy looking at the calender on her computer...yep, it's almost October, when did that happen? Jane smirks, "I think you should take a long weekend for yourself, go upstate. Pay Rogue a visit."

Darcy lofts an eyebrow her way, fixing her with a look that clearly communicates 'you're not fooling me, bitch'. But then she's biting her lip, looking away, "You uh...think that I should?"

"I do," Jane replies, earnestly now, crossing her arms, "What do you have to lose, really?"

Darcy shakes her head, bits of hair tumbling out of her loose braid, "Plenty...but at the same time...not much?" Not her excellent job, her excellent life, just, you know. Her raggedy ol' heart. But she leaves that unsaid, and Jane hardly needs to hear it to know. She just smiles, shrugging.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Agent Lewis. And I miss having you all here, present," She adds, meaningfully, and Darcy really doesn't have an argument for that one. A part of her is most definitely upstate, at the moment. Perhaps it might behoove her to go and find it.

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Darcy musters herself for the rest of the day, before finally asking for leave for that weekend, dropping by Coulson's office before heading home. She goes out drinking that evening, even though it's a week night, and doesn't regret it in the slightest. She sends a drunk text to Marie, who sends back her raucous approval. And Friday morning finds Darcy Lewis in a black SUV heading to Westchester, her smart, SHIELD agent clothes left behind, her duffle full of over-sized layers and soft coats, sweaters, her hair a tumble around her shoulders.

Her ride drops her in front of the mansion, and she takes a moment to drink in the huge, beautiful place, and more importantly the fresh, clean autumn air, the trees on the grounds already a riot of colors. Darcy's eyes fall on the doorstep, then, a slow grin parting her full lips, spotting the tall figure leaning on one of the pillars, waiting, arms crossed, watching her as she sways forward, slowly. "...So, gotta bone to pick with you," She says, nearing him slowly. Logan cocks a brow.

"Oh?" He grins, and Darcy nods, very seriously.

"Mhmm," She takes the few steps up slowly, tilting her head, regarding him. Her expression remains playfully stern, even as there's a warmth growing in her chest, the closer she comes to him. A tugging, a cosmic pull, both attraction and just...a wholeness, that she's accepting more and more. A contented feeling rising up, cracking her mask, her grin threatening to bubble over, "You have utterly ruined the single life, skinny dorks, and empty beds for me. Possibly forever. I want recompense." Logan snorts, reaching out for her hand, tugging her in.

"Well, you're one to talk, Agent," He shoots back, but he's grinning too, a rough longing to his voice that goes straight to her gut as she wraps her arms around his waist, and he buries his face in her hair. "Took all I had not t'go runnin' into the city soon as they let me outta bed..."

"I'm glad you didn't," She tells him, voice muffled by his shirt, "I might've gone runnin'." The admission doesn't surprise him at all. Logan just reaches down, tilting her chin up and kissing her, long and slow, his hands sliding into her hair, her hands smoothing up the front of his shirt, arms wrapping around his neck. "...But I am sorry it took me so long," Darcy whispers, when they pull apart.

"S'all right, gypsy," He whispers right back, "Got all the time in the world t'wait on you."

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Later, she'll get pounced on by Marie, meet Jubilee, and get tucked into her room by yes, her boyfriend. He'll make love to her like a man starved, and she'll be right there with him, grabbing at each other, kissing, biting, Wolverine driving her to shout his name into the night, while he gasps hers against her skin. There'll be wandering in the woods, kissing in the woods, frightening the local wildlife in the woods. He'll try and make her stay, she'll have to return to the city, but Darcy promises to comes back, and always does, again and again.

It'll be Christmas when he tells her that he loves her, and New Years when she says it back, after they've rung in 2013 in one of the closets in Stark Tower, her dress hitched up and his suit askew. Darcy will be with him when she kills her first man on a mission, and Logan will be the one sitting vigil at her side when she takes -her- first bullet. He might never be able to sleep in the same bed with her, but she still falls asleep in his arms more nights than she doesn't, the winter passing under warm blankets, snow outside the walls of a mansion or her shabby Queens apartment, neither of them alone anymore, at least not for long.

And when spring comes 'round, after attending Steve's wedding, they'll roar out of the reception on the back of the bike, Darcy still in her bridesmaid dress, giggling like mad, 'cause they've got a date up North.

It's around that time when Darcy realizes, there's not much left that she's afraid of...

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